Into Broken Waves
by Broken-Devil
Summary: When the love of your life goes missing, how far will you go to save them?
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, I know I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be starting a new story, but I couldn't help it_

_I got my inspiration from "Without a Trace" and other shows like that. I wanted to write something in that sort of genre, that kind of story. So I did._

_Now, it's going to be slow because I'm still working on Written In My Sins - But I doubt this is going to be that long. _

_Anyway, hope you like it. Review, if you please, just so I know if I should continue or give it up now._

_Kelly._

* * *

**Title: **Into Broken Waves.**  
Author: **Broken-Devil.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the SoN characters, they belong to Tom Lynch and The-N. Any original characters you do see are mine though. So no stealing those ones, mkay?  
**Pairing(s): **Spencer and Ashley.  
**Summary: **When the love of your life goes missing, how far will you go to save them?

* * *

**September 29th, 2012. 00:53am. **

I'm driving, it's late and I'm pumped full of caffeine but I really couldn't care less.

I need to find her, my Spencer, my baby, I have to get her and bring her back home. To me, to where she belongs, to where I love her unconditionally and where I'm going crazy because she isn't around to calm me down.

I've known Spencer Carlin since I was fourteen and besides her parents and her brother, who like to think they know more, I'm pretty much the only person who really, truly, understands her. I know she hardly likes any milk in her cereal, I know she's one of those people who think they can sing better in the shower and I know, beyond everything, she loves me and her family way too much to run away.

I'm her girlfriend, her best friend, and trust me when I say Spencer had no reason to just "take off." We would have talked about it, she would have said if something was bothering her or if she was feeling generally down. I mean, I knew her new job was stressful but she loved it. Yeah the strain was getting to her, I could see it, but she never let it affect us and she wouldn't run from it - not when she had worked so hard.

She was a journalist and a fucking good one at that too. Her writing, it was out of this world and though it may have pissed off some pretty high celebrities in the process; they had to agree she was good. She didn't like the tabloid papers though, she went for the meaty stuff; articles that would blow peoples minds.

Did you know my baby was behind uncovering that sporting scandal last year? It's true, she put so much time into that article. Her photographer and friend, Chelsea Daniels, they had camped for nights outside this guy's house and the only time I saw her was when she ran in to the house to have a shower. But God, when she exploded the guy's secret it was fucking awesome; I was proud in a kind of twisted way.

His name was Aiden Dennison, an ex basketball player with more money than sense and a bimbo hanging off of him at every corner. He's good looking, you know, if you're into that. Tall, dark, handsome - the typical pretty boy you see on every heterosexual teenaged girls' wall. Apparently though, he'd been popping 'roids since he was seventeen and nobody had noticed, or nobody cared. The guy was so pumped up on these pills though that it fucked with his head, caused him to be violent. During the off season the guy was working out in the gym where Spencer went, he tried flirting with her and she pushed him away, told him she was with me.

He wouldn't take the hint though, kept pushing at her and telling her _he_ was what _she _needed. He grabbed her as she walked away, that fucker grabbed her and left his filthy mark on her perfect body. I wanted to kill him when she came home and told me, my heart was pumping blood that was boiling, I could only see red and I forced my way past her to my car. She told me it was okay, told me that she would sort it and dear God she did.

She exposed him for what he was; a dirty, filthy piece of scum. She and Chelsea caught him buying his little pills from a local dealer, they snapped him picking up prostitutes; some girls whom were my sister's age and she's only just starting college. They had evidence, pictures of one of those girls with bruises on her face and arms, after she had gotten out of his car. My baby, she's kind-hearted and she went to the police before writing her story. They didn't pay much attention to it, said it could be anyone and she needed further proof.

She gave them proof, hell she wrote a 3 page spread about the low life piece of shit and included how the police fail to do their job properly. She wrote about his sordid little life and his dirty ways and exposed Aiden Dennison for what he was.

He was mad for a while, he had to fork money to keep his sorry ass out of jail and had to publicly quit the basketball team that had paid for his Ferraris and his prostitutes. We had a month, Spencer, Chelsea and I, where letters were being posted about how we were going to pay for it. She paid it no attention, I did but that quickly vanished when she whispered to me how she found "protective Ashley" unbelievably hot.

So, I know, I know that if she could get through something like that then something serious has had to have happened. My baby wouldn't run, she wouldn't just get up and leave like that - it wasn't her, wasn't who she was.

I'll find her.

Believe me when I say I'll find her, I'll find who took her and I'll bring her back if it is the last thing I do.

Because I know, _I know, _she hasn't run away.

The police, Jesus they think I'm stupid or something. They tell me that maybe she's with some friends, but I know her friends, I've phoned them all - ten times individually. She isn't with them.

I've gone by her work, she didn't turn up.

I've gone to her regular eating places, she hasn't been seen.

I've checked the park, our spot on the beach, the lighthouse, the subways, the airports, the taxi ranks, the bowling alley, the ice-rink - nobody has seen her.

So when the police tell me, with their charming smiles and their relaxing tones that she could have just gone away for a while; I can hear the secret messages. I can see the glances they flit between one another while Paula, Spencer's mother, cries into the cold coffee and crumples the rest of her stale biscuit. I can feel the doubt they have when they watch Glen, her brother, come in from searching our neighbourhood for the eighth time that night.

Its suspicious circumstances, I know it, God I've watched CSI and all those shows enough to understand it.

But I'll find her.

So help me God I will find her.

-

**September 27th, 2012. 07:08am.**

"What time will you be home tonight, Spence?" The brunette asks, she already knows the answer but the feeling of this lifestyle, this living together, she loves it. How domesticated they are, how they know each other so perfectly, so intimately, she basks in it. A grin slowly works its way over her tanned face and she puts the finishing touches to her lipstick. Once, twice, she smacks her lips together and watches her reflection flash a cheeky smile.

"Five." Her girlfriend responds. Ashley frowns at the tone used, Spencer sounds distracted, frustrated, and she moves away from the mirror and walks from the bathroom to the bedroom to see what the problem is.

"Baby, do you need some help?" Walking over to her, Ashley puts my hands over her work planner, but recoils when a pale hand grabs the item possessively. They're both frowning, for different reasons, but the blonde is intent on fitting everything into her small bag.

"No, I'm fine. I can do it myself, Ashley, I don't need a minder." Ungracefully, she shoves the silver planner into the bag and pushes a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. A sigh leaves parted pink lips and sorrowful blue eyes turn to her confused girlfriend.

"Don't start our day by saying sorry." Ashley interrupts, scared that having an argument with Spencer now would ruin her day. She couldn't be distracted today, she was going to be editing together the final album for the top selling band in LA. "What's wrong?"

"I -" Spencer sighs, runs a hand through naturally straight hair and fixes her gaze on a picture nailed to the wall, "I didn't sleep much."

"Why didn't you wake me?" She wraps her arms around the taller woman, careful not to crease the new blouse the blonde was wearing.

"You looked so perfect asleep, you've been working long hours and you needed to catch up on some." Leaning forward she presses kiss onto pout in front of her, the fresh lip-gloss she had applied, scant minutes before they had started this conversation, left a sticky trail between their lips.

"I would have woken for you." Ashley's slightly perturbed, Spencer never had any issues with waking the music producer before. In fact, the blonde often did it, even when they had both only had two hours sleep, to talk about random things that were flitting around her mind. The brunette always listened intently, hung off of every word that slipped past those full lips and Spencer knew that. She thrived on it.

"I know, baby." Soft hands run down tanned biceps and the blonde smiles as she squeezes the skin under her fingers. "I just, I guess I was too hot and that isn't really a reason is it? You know, to wake you."

"I guess," The brunette is pouting because her mind is alive with worry, "are you sure you're okay? Maybe you're working yourself too hard."

"You know, you might be right there." For once the blonde concedes, usually she uses that line to start an argument about how Ashley dosen't appreciate the work she does.

"I am." Ashley nods, leaning forward and putting their foreheads together. She realises they have to leave the house in the next five minutes to make it to work on time but she dosen't want to break this silence, this bliss.

"Ashley?" Spencer starts a slow rocking motion of their bodies, swaying them from side to side and calming their senses slowly.

"Mmm?"

"You know that holiday you wanted to go on? The one I couldn't get out of work for?"

"Yeah?"

"How about we book it when I get home?"

Brown eyes lit up in relief and flooded with love. Two weeks prior she had hinted they get away, have a holiday and just forget about work for a while. Europe had been the option, Spencer could visit all those historical places she had dreamt about as a child and Ashley could romance her with foreign food and wine. France, Italy, Spain and Greece had been widely talked about but the bubble had been burst when Spencer whispered, late into the night, that she wouldn't get out of work. She just couldn't arrange to take a month off, not like that.

But now, now she had changed her mind and it filled Ashley's heart.

"I'll have the numbers ready and waiting."

"Good, I can't wait." Another kiss, another embrace and the two finally got ready for the day of work. "I'll try and be home for half four, baby. Be here." She shot her a sexy wink and walked to the door, Ashley followed like a little puppy and waved as she left.

September 27th, 2012 at 7:23 was the last time Ashley Davies saw Spencer Carlin.

-

**September 29th, 2012. 00:56am.**

It's cold, it's wet and the smell is making me nauseous.

I can't see where I am, whoever is in control here has turned the lights off and they've been off for the longest time. My belongings, they were in my bag and I don't know where that is. I had it when I was leaving work, I was carrying it over my shoulder and then...

God, I can't remember.

I hear water, it's running in the corner somewhere and I can hear someone talking. They sound distant, far away, like I'm behind a barrier to stop me getting to them.

My knee is cut badly, I can feel the congealed blood around the wound and I can't bend it properly. It's below the knee, with my free hand I can feel it and the cut is rather long. My other hand is chained, the links connected to my wrist are long enough so I can stand up - but I can't raise my hands when I do.

I lean back against the wall, I've been here for a while - I don't know how long. There's a window, it's high on the wall and I'm pretty sure a day has passed but I'm dazed, confused.

I want Ashley, we're supposed to be booking our holiday in Europe. We should be eating now, I should be listening to her stories about the divas she has to work with and we should be laughing together at stupid things. I should be in her arms, holding her, kissing her, feeling her.

But I'm not.

I'm cold and scared but I'm not giving up now, I'm not losing hope.

She'll find me, I know she will, my baby is strong and she'll come for me.

She has to.


	2. Chapter 2

The computer is broken, the internet wont work, so I'm not sure when the next update will be considering I can't get on - I'm not sure when the next update will be. Thanks for all the reviews, guys. I hope you'll like this next one.

**30th September 2012, 10:18am. **

I'm sat outside one of the biggest houses I have ever seen in my entire life, the drive up to it was a feat in itself and my Porsche hardly liked having those obnoxious little stones digging into it's tyres as I came to find some answers. The door is one of those huge double ones and the glass is frosted over and outside the garage is an Aston Martin, just sitting in the driveway.

I pity people like this man. Yeah, Spence and I have a fair amount of money lining our accounts. What do you expect? I'm a record producer for a high class music company and Spencer is one of the best journalists this side of America. But we're nothing like this, the apartment and the Porsche were our luxury buys. Spencer likes to buy jewellery, sometimes giving me gifts – but we're hardly materialistic. I would live in an apartment that housed a dirty mattress and give this life up, as long as I had Spencer.

Looking at these tall trees, the expensive gravel and the assortment of cars - Aiden Dennison is a typical money loving boy. Not very smart though, on the way in I simply told the guards I was here on a "private visit" with Mr. Dennison and they just winked and let me drive through. Morons, I could be anyone. Apparently Aiden isn't too tight with security, because as I look around there are hardly any CCTV cameras nor are there any burly men telling me to fuck off.

I get out of the car and quickly slip my sunglasses on, I haven't slept since the 27th and I won't sleep until I'm holding Spencer in my arms. I can't sleep without her, once she left the country for two days with her mom to "bond" and I practically became an insomniac until she came home. I need to feel her next to her, hear her breathing, see her dreaming. I have to know she is okay, that she's healthy and happy and loved - but I don't know where she is, how she is, what she's doing.

But I'll find out, I'll die trying and I'm not beyond killing someone for information.

I need her.

Before I know it, my fist in making its impression known on the large doors and I'm pounding away until I feel the skin split. Blood trickles down my fingers but I keep hammering at the door, someone will answer soon; I'm making a fair bit of noise. The crimson liquid is seeping beneath my fingernails and the splinters of the door are imbedded into my raw flesh, still I don't care. I'm numb anyway and even if I could register the pain, I'd continue.

Spencer's worth a bruise or two.

The door opens quickly and if I weren't standing with a leg in front of the other, I would have toppled forwards.

In front of me stands the dipshit himself, Aiden Dennison. His deep blue shirt is open and the parted material is giving me a glimpse into what five years of steroid abuse can do to the human body. It's unfortunate really; he could be a really good looking guy. A scowl is set deep into his face and his cold, green eyes are trailing up and down my small body like I'm there to please him. I hold back a scoff at his appreciative eye and bring my bloodied hand down to my side; I can feel the thick liquid drip down my fingers and probably onto my jeans.

"What?" He grunts leaning on the doorjamb, I watch the veins in his forearm struggle to pump blood around his huge body.

"Where is she?" This guy, this _thing,_ in front of me is the only one who threatened my baby. She'd been working at that paper for a year and she hadn't had one, not one, threat like he had sent. Burning down property, stealing cars, all the usual bullshit. If anyone knew where my girl was, it'd be this guy.

"Who the fuck are you talking about?" His hand runs through his hair, stray bits stick up at unruly angles and he looks a little worse for wear. Apparently, he isn't impressed with me standing on his doorstep whilst I bleed and waste his time.

"Spencer, where's Spencer?" I'll kill him if I have to.

"What the he - Get off of my property, now." He goes to shut the door but I put my hand on it before the latch clicks, I push it and he stumbles back a few steps. He's a lot taller than me, I notice, especially when he isn't slouching against a door. He sneers at me and for a moment my blood runs cold.

"Tell me where she is and I'll leave." I have to keep it up, you can't show when you're weak, it feeds their hunger.

"Look, sweetie, I don't know where the hell your little whore is alright? I've talked to the police about this shit already, they have my statement and considering they haven't arrested me; I'm innocent. Now, fuck off." He pushes at my shoulder to make me leave but I shrug out of the tight hold, he knows something, something I need to know.

"You're the only one who threatened her. What did you do? Bump into her on the street and carry her like the caveman you are? I swear if you've hurt her -"

"I haven't fucking seen her, alright?" He's shouting at me and I've hit a nerve, I can tell.

"Why are you being so defensive then?"

"I've. Given. My. Statement." He accentuates each word with a poke to my body. "Now, like I've said, get off of my property."

-

**28th September, 2012. 18:37pm.**

"Mr. Dennison, the morning of September 27th this year, can you tell me where you were?" Jackson Harper had been chief in command at the local police department for twenty seven years. His deep chocolate eyes had seen just about everything; murder, rape, arson, child abuse, drug abuse and assault. His one glossy black hair was slowly graying, noticeable mostly around his ears. He was hardly a stranger to high profiled celebrities either, so when his Toyota had rolled to a stop outside 1284 Oakridge House, the house of Aiden Dennison, he had contained a perfect eye roll.

"Depends on which time. Early morning I was out running, that's about 7 or 8, and then I'm home for 9 or 10." The dark haired man remained calm at the table, he knew _exactly _where he was on the date the police officer was suggesting and he knew exactly whom he was talking to.

"Let's be more specific, sir. We're looking between half seven and a quarter past eight." Carefully examining the man, Jackson found the young adult to be calm but his shoulders were mighty tense. As his mother used to say, a man with tense shoulders is carrying a burden on his back. His mother's words hadn't failed him yet and he was betting they wouldn't fail again.

"I was running."

"Where? On a treadmill, the gym, out in the streets?"

"Outside."

"Young man, if you want to be any help to me you're going to have to give me more details." He lowered his voice to become more intimidating and his partner, Jessica Danes; quickly put a hand onto the dark mans shoulder.

"Why should I? I don't even know why you're here."

Jackson narrowed his eyes, wrinkles formed around the edges which only added to his forty something years. He ran a tongue over his white teeth and made sure to hold back any comment that could potentially disrupt the case, the client or the investigation.

"Did you know of a Spencer Carlin?" Jessica's soft accent floated across the mahogany table and settled deep in Aiden's stomach. He flashed her a charming smile to which she tilted her head and waited for an answer.

"Yeah, I've heard of her."

"Personally or..."

"Hell no, that little bitch? The only thing she screwed me for was my career, if I didn't save my money I could be fucking homeless right at this minute." He slammed a fist down onto the table which only made Jackson's inner smile grow, he had the bastard.

"So from what I can gather, you didn't like Miss. Carlin?" He asked as Jessica, or Jessie as she liked to be called sometimes, scribbled down notes furiously.

"No particularly, no."

"What is it about her, you know, that makes you hate her?" Leaning back on the wooden chair he finally felt comfortable in the house. As he walked in all he saw around were neutral colors and metallic paint everywhere. The only room that seemed to have some taste was the dining room.

"She wrote an article about me, it ruined my life."

"So you never wanted to see her again, correct?"

"If I never saw her again it'd be too soon, sir." Aiden nodded and his green eyes twinkled, it wasn't hard to see why the man held a place in some females hearts.

"You're telling me that after this woman wrote an article about you, one that flattened your career, your life, you just walked away? You just let her do that and didn't say anything?" Jackson wasn't stupid, he knew of the poison pen letters sent to Miss. Carlin and her girlfriend.

"Of course not." Aiden's eyes scanned the room nervously. "I wrote a few angry letters and posted them, _and then _I walked away."

"Just letters?" Jessica asked as she set her bright eyes on the man at the end of the table.

Aiden clenched his jaw tightly and took a long moment before he spoke. Jackson watched the muscles in his face twitch under the pressure and his gaze flicked to conflict in green eyes, oh the boy was holding something back alright. He just wasn't sure what it was.

"Look, I saw her that morning alright..."

--

_**September 27th, 2012. 08:03am.**_

_Aiden sneered as he watched Spencer rushing towards her work's building. Her little black heels clicked furiously on the wet pavement and she was desperately trying to message someone on her phone and simultaneously hold it all together. He waited until she had put her phone away before walking out from behind a large, marble pillar. _

_"Hey you!" Spencer looked over to the handsome man and scowled, she didn't have time for this. _

_"Yeah?"_

_"Do you have any idea what you've done to me, huh? I've seen you, you know. Walking around in your little suits and driving your silver car, thinking you own it all. You don't, you know. You just ruined my life and walked away with a cheque. I hope I paid for a wonderful meal for you and your little dyke." _

_"Look, I really have to get to -"_

_"Work? What, so you can ruin another persons life? You make me sick. You'll get what's coming to you, you know." _

_He spat at her shoes before turning away and running towards the car park. Spencer watched him go and tried to shake the thoughts from her mind, she wasn't going to let Aiden fucking Dennison scare her. Not today, not when she had Ashley waiting at home for her._

--

**September 30th 2012, 10:25am. **

"See? I told the police everything. You can go and ask them if you want, see if I care. I don't know where your little bitch is. Maybe you should keep her on a fucking leash, or something." He was glaring at me like he hated me, but I loathed him more. I wanted nothing more than to punch him in his face, but it wouldn't solve anything, it wouldn't bring me Spencer.

"You're scum, Dennison."

I walked away with my head held high but my heart sinking with each footfall. It had been three days since I had seen her, three days since I held her and looked into those eyes.

It was slowly killing me.

The girl I had known for eight years and had been able to call mine for six was missing, gone without a trace. She had disappeared, just like that and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. I didn't even tell her how much she meant to me that morning, I just let her go.

God, I should have said something to have made her stay. We could have planned our trip that morning, I mean, what was more important? I didn't actually arrive at the recording studio until 11 and I could have spent that time with her, loving her.

I could have stopped all this with a kiss; I should have held her and led her back to the bed. I should have offered to drive her, make her breakfast or walk her to the office. But no, I just let her walk out.

I jump when my phone rings and I put it to my ear without checking the ID.

"Yeah?"

"Miss. Davies? This is Detective Harper, we spoke the other day."

"Yeah, yeah, I remember you. You told me my missing girlfriend was just at a friend's house." I slid into my car and closed my eyes, I knew Aiden would be pissed off I hadn't left yet and I let a little smirk touch my lips.

"I understand you're upset Miss. Davies. I was calling to see if you had heard anything, spoken to anyone?"

"I thought that was your job, sir."

"It is, Miss. Davies, and I assure you I'm working hard on this case. I just need you to be aware that Miss. Carlin could contact you, remember? We went over this before." He didn't sound angry, he sounded patient and understanding.

"If she's been kidnapped how can she contact me?"

"We don't know that she has, Miss. Davies. I'm simply highlighting some options that -"

"I'll phone if my missing girlfriend sends me a postcard, Mr. Harper. Don't you worry." I click the phone shut and let out a shuddering breath that steals air from the very darkest depths of my lungs. I can't believe this, apparently one of the best detectives in the business was struggling with finding my girl.

I look up to see Aiden standing by a bay window, waiting until I left his "property" and, for what he hoped, his life. I smiled and showed him my favorite finger, the middle one, before starting my car and gunning it out of there.

-

**September 30th 2012, 16:43pm. **

My head hurts.

I groan as I try to sit up and I let my eyes adjust to the light, I don't remember falling asleep. The room is bright now and I can see where I am, I glance down to my leg and I can see my calf is covered in dried blood - right to the ankle.

The wound has been covered with gauze, but nothing has been cleaned, almost like the "bandage" was slapped on as a second thought. I look around, noting the walls are bare as is everything else. The floors dusty, dirty and the walls, made of stone, have a fungi on them that is running down to the floor. There's a door in front of me, but I'm not naive enough to believe it's open. And even if it was, how the fuck would I get out?

My wrist is bright red, probably from the cuff that is wrapped tightly around it and I wonder how I even slept with it on. Next to my right leg is a plate of food, long since cold and I feel the bile rise up in my throat - burning my esophagus as it lingered to reach my tongue. I retch, bracing myself on my hands and I realize my stomach is probably empty. There's nothing left to throw up.

I scrutinize the food in front of me, the chance it could be poisoned is high but the chance I might not have this opportunity to eat again is higher. I pull it towards me and greedily grab a handful of carrots before shoveling them into my mouth, not caring how I eat.

A bright flash goes off in the corner and I stop, my body freezing. I don't want to turn, I don't dare look in case I find someone stood there; smiling at me as I remained chained to the wall. Another flash goes off as a tear rolls down my cheek, I want to scream, I want to yell so loud my throat bleeds and someone hears me. I'm crying through my fear, through how terrified I am right now.

I turn quickly and I don't see anything, another flash blinds me and that's when I notice it's in the wall. There's a camera, how I didn't notice it before is beyond me. I stand up and, as far as the chain allows, I walk towards it. One last flash and I jump back, startled even though I knew it was coming.

My heart is beating wildly; someone was in here whilst I was asleep. They left me food and set up a camera, like I'm an animal in a cage at the zoo or something.

There's a loud bang and I hear a door slam somewhere, I jolt with the sudden noise and my ears perk up when I hear a metal clang. My eyes fly to the door and I see a latch is open, I can make out a person stood behind it, but it's the voice that stops my heart.

"How do you like being followed, Spencer? Being photographed without consent and beyond your own will? Would you like me to write a article on you before or after I ruin your life?"

I don't answer and I hear the person laugh before stepping back from the door. The latch is shut and I wait a few moments before crying, loud heaving sobs wrack my body and it hurts. My ribs hurt, my stomach, my chest, my throat, my eyes - they all hurt as I cry until I can't breathe, until I can't think.

I have to get out of here.

Ashley has to get me out of here.


	3. Chapter 3

**1****st**** October, 2012. 08:51am. **

I'm starting a new month without her and its breaking my heart. We have a tradition, you see, Spence and me. No matter the day it lands on, we "celebrate" starting a new month together with a meal in. There's dancing and laughing and we always end the night making love, never fucking.

I look around the Carlin's living room and I bite my lip, I have so many memories that I can feel my chest grow tight and tears well in my eyes.

We had our first kiss by those stairs, I had come over - I needed to tell her I loved her. I was eighteen, young and newly single from my ex Jennifer Roscoe. I know what you might think, Spencer was a rebound. She wasn't, for the three months I was with Samantha the only person I could see was Spencer.

I had run over here, I left my car at the local mall and had taken off in the direction of Spencer's home. Her eyes when she opened the door, how wide they got, I won't ever forget. I told her I loved her, there was no dramatic speech lined up, I just stepped inside the door and told her I was in love with her.

She had rolled her eyes playfully, cutely, and told me she was waiting for when I'd say it. Then we kissed, right in front of those stairs.

That hallway has seen a lot from Spencer and me.

I've taken her up against the front door, I've taken her on this couch and I've taken her in the kitchen, on the table, three times.

We had our first, and only, break up in her bedroom. I had gone out with some friends, some girls I had met while Spencer went to college. She attended UCLA on some journalism course and I lived off the interest my father's money produced. She generally stayed with me, but this one night her mom had asked her to stay at the house. I had gone out with a group of these girls and Spencer hated them; told me they were trouble.

One in particular was a girl called Lauren Scott.

Now, I know I'm nothing as clever as my Spencer but I'm not some dumb fuck either. I knew Lauren was all about money and fame, I had one out of two plus I had my connections. It was stupid, I know, sticking with her - but there was something about a protective Spencer, a jealous Spencer, that took over.

I loved she'd kiss me in a crowded room to piss Lauren off, I loved how she'd possessively hold my body and I was still able to feel her love.

Yes, I was stupid; I know this. I was young though, I just loved the idea of belonging to Spencer and still being lusted after by others. I took her for granted; I assumed she would always be there no matter how much I fucked it up.

I guess that night it went too far.

-

**22****nd**** May 2009, 01:19am. **

"Shh!" Ashley giggled as she stumbled into Spencer's bedroom. She wasn't drunk, but Lauren could make some fucking awesome daiquiris and Ashley wasn't going to pass one up.

"Ash, what are you doing here?" The blonde shot up from her bed and whispered loudly. She made her way over to the brunette and guided her to the bed, where she hadn't been able to sleep.

"I wanted to see you, I missed you tonight."

"No you didn't." Spencer sighed and stood up; quietly she opened the drawers to "Ashley's" drawer and took out a pair of boxers and a tank top.

"What d'ya mean, Spence?" Ashley lay back on the bed and closed her heavy eyes. "O' course I missed you. I always miss you. Lauren says I'm obsessed."

"Well if _Lauren _says that…" Shutting the drawer with unnecessary force, Spencer tried to remain calm.

"Babe, what's your issue with her? Lauren is great." With a little struggle, Ashley managed to sit up properly and she looked at her girlfriend. One glance at Spencer's face sobered her up, quickly.

"Yeah. Ash, you know I've been staying at my mom's the past two days?"

"Mmm, because she wanted to do some stuff with you." Ashley stood up, Spencer's blue eyes were no longer focused on her and it was scaring her a little.

"We did stuff yesterday, Ash." A thin hand ran across her forehead. "I called you earlier; Lauren answered and said you were busy. I wanted to spend the day with you."

"I…"

"I've seen you six days over the last two weeks."

Ashley swallowed hard. She knew that was going to be brought up but she had been busy, trying to find something to occupy her time now Spencer was getting an education and she truly thought Spencer was busy with college work.

"And you know the funny thing? Four of those days, Lauren was with us." Spencer's voice was cracking and she put a hand up when Ashley tried to come near her.

"Look, I get you're mad at me but this has nothing to do with Lau -"

"It had everything to do with her! It has to do with her, and me, and you and…and us."

"What are you…?" Ashley didn't want to finish it. Her heart was pounding, her head was throbbing and a fresh film of tears began to coat her eyes. "Us?"

"My friend at college, Chelsea, she's living on campus and her room-mate has moved out. My name's on the list to move in next. I'm gonna go and stay with her while I finish college." Spencer began stroking the inside of her wrist and ignored her stomach clenching.

"But you'll still come and meet me, right? I mean, it's not like I'm doing anything - I can drive to your college, it'll only take less than an hour, and you can stay at mine at the weekends."

Spencer shook her head through Ashley's words and soon enough the sentences were blending as the brunette started to panic.

"I can't sit back and watch her take you from me, Ashley." She let herself go and the tears quickly came, coating her chin before she had realised they left her eyes. "I want you to be happy and you have so much fun when you go out with her, and your other friends."

"I have a better time here with you when we're alone." The shorter girl challenged.

"Then why don't I see you anymore? Why do I look at you and…?"

"And what, Spencer?"

"And think…Why am I wasting my time being with someone who's too busy with another girl to remember my birthday?"

Ashley blinked once, twice, and then closed her eyes in disbelief. She opened her eyes once more and looked around the room properly. On the dresser were four cards, wrapping paper lined the bin and there was a shrivelled balloon sitting next to it.

"Spencer…I didn't…I wasn't…"

Teary blue eyes looked to Ashley and the brunette choked back a sob, this was it. She could feel it. She had spent so long trying to make herself feel good, trying to make Spencer jealous, that she had lost sight of what she had.

"You know, it'd be okay if today was the day after, or something. But Ashley, I was born on the 19th of May. The nineteenth!"

"I know." Ashley whispered, "I know. I did buy you something…"

"There's only one thing I want from you, Ashley." The two looked at one another and Ashley nodded, hoping Spencer would see that she would give her anything.

"I need to fall asleep in your arms."

"Okay." Ashley was quick to please, crying out internally that this was her chance to make it better, to make it right again.

"I wasn't finished." Spencer closed her eyes and took in a shuddering breath. "Hold me until I fall asleep tonight but don't be there when I wake up tomorrow."

--

**1****st**** October, 2012. 08:54am. **

It hurt so much when she asked me to do that. I held her in my arms though, I held her until she stopped crying and she was sleeping away our problems. I cried for an hour, I held her and then I left when the sun began to rise.

I cut off contact with everyone after that. My sister, Kyla, she was the only one who saw me and she never said anything when I cried more than I ever have in my life.

She took me back, obviously.

I camped outside the dorm rooms for two nights. It was when the third day was rolling around I knew I was forgiven; Chelsea unzipped my tent and told me Spencer wanted to see me. It took five hours of grovelling, two hours of crying (on both sides), three hours of making out and a promise I would always love her for her to forgive me.

Although the break up almost killed me, I think it made us stronger and forced us to see how lucky we were. I took her for granted and she gave me too much room to gallivant around with girls. We were better after that, stronger, more stable.

We were perfect.

We _are _perfect.

I didn't forget her next birthday, or the one after, or the any after that. And when I get her back, which I will, I'll propose to her on her next one. I will show her she's my everything.

"Here they are." I look up and smile as Paula walks towards me holding a book of Spencer's newspaper clippings. I smile at the gesture, Spencer hates this book but I love it. I'd make one of my own but in a weird way, this book brings Paula and I together.

"Thank you so much." I take the black book from her and leaf through some pages. There they all are, all of Spencer's articles in chronological order, dating back to 2005 when she was simply writing for her school paper.

"It's fine. Why do you need these?"

"I just…Something tells me Spencer didn't run away, Paula. We both know that." At the heartbroken, yet resigned look, on Paula's face I stop myself going further. "They wouldn't be investigating it further."

"You think someone who reads the paper could have…" The eldest Carlin stopped there and I didn't blame her, I could hardly say it myself without retching.

"Maybe."

I flick through the book and a double page spread lands open. I look at the date and notice it's recent, written in at the beginning of this year. January 2012.

I read it all, smiling at my baby's amazing way with words and stopping short when I read a familiar name.

Lauren Scott.

-

**1****st**** October, 2012. 08:48am.**

I didn't sleep much last night and I'm certain I'm not going to sleep until I'm safe with Ashley, safe at home.

I rub the inside of my wrist, an action I've done for as long as I can remember when I'm in a situation that scares me or upsets me in some way. The last time I did, it was when Ashley and I had our last argument, it was over something petty and she was just screaming at me.

She apologised afterwards and I had found out, through Glen, my brother, that some big artist had been dropped from the label and though it was Ashley's decision to let the drug-taking-gang-land-killing singer go; it had cost her company just under 1.3 million dollars.

At some point last night, I felt someone beside me but I was too frightened to open my eyes. I could hear their steady breathing, I tensed and I know they felt it because they whispered how I should be asleep.

Apparently, they were releasing my wrist so now it's possible for me to move around the room that I want to run away from. How very thoughtful of them.

There's a cut on my arm where the metal was digging into my and my leg is hurting so much that it's just numb now, unless I've blocked myself off. I've read stories, heard reports, of people in these situations feeling nothing at all while they were held against their will.

Thank God, this is just a cut on my wrist. This person, they could do so much more to me and I know it. I might be bleeding, cold and hungry but I'm alive. That's a good thing, right?

I chew my lip and lean my head back against the wall, I'm not going to cry again - I refuse to. I've degraded myself enough for this person, this thing. I've let them know I'm weak, know that they can break my walls down - and that's made them even more powerful.

I look to the door as I hear the latch come down again and a plate is placed through, with a bottle of water. I eye it curiously until the person speaks - making me jump.

"Take it before I change my Goddamn mind."

I'm up like a flash and I grab the tray. My head is still fuzzy and it doesn't help that the voice is muffled, making it hard to distinguish the sex. As I bring the plastic towards me, a hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.

Shocked, I gasp and drop the food, my eyes flutter between my fallen meal and the black gloved hand on my pale skin.

"You know, you're not as fucking great as everyone says you are." I wince at the pressure on my wrist and I plead internally they will let go.

"I …"

"I hear your girlfriend is trailing LA looking for your sorry ass. It's cute, but we both know she won't get here in time."

I'm pushed back and I watch the latch go up, the only chance of a lifeline here.

I smile though.

Even though I'm cold and hungry, bleeding and sore all over, I know one thing is for certain.

Ashley is going to find me.


	4. Chapter 4

It's long

**It's long. Double what I usually crank out for this. **

**I've had little inspiration, despite having a lot of it handwritten. **

**Plus, I'm not able to post a lot – so I thought I'd bulk this out a lot more. **

**Enjoy.**

**1st October, 2012. 10:28am.**

She lives in a fucking penthouse.

When I knew her, all those years ago, she was practically living on friend's couches and out of the back of her Chevy. Yet, here she is living on the top floor of one of the best apartment buildings around. I should know. Spencer chose this building before she found the "perfect" apartment four blocks east.

She had dragged me around for miles, my poor Blahniks couldn't handle all the walking, but the second I was about to complain; Spencer would kiss my cheek and tell me she couldn't wait until we lived together. I changed my shoes somewhere between "Penthouse Number 5" and "Apartment of Spencer's Dreams."

I close my eyes to rid myself of that memory, I'm sick of having flashbacks to her shining eyes and glowing smile. It makes my heart hurt.

Holding my finger down on the buzzer, I simply wait. I know how annoying that buzzing sound is, from personal experience. Kyla lived with us for two months, she had broken up with her "perfect man" Jake and had interrupted a very important bath I was having with Spencer. She had phoned us, but Spencer had told me that we should ignore it, that we should relax, but obviously my sister didn't get that message. Instead, she practically sat on the buzzer until I jumped out of the bubbles in order to kill her.

"Yes?"

The intercom crackles to life and I hear a sultry voice flicker through the speaker. From what I could recall, Lauren had a soft voice, a real cute, adorable, girly sort of voice that made you smile. This voice, on the speaker, was deeper but distinctively female.

"Hey, you rang my fucking buzzer. What do you want?"

_Charming._

"I was wondering, does a Lauren Scott live here?" I put on my best phone voice.

"Who's asking?"

"My name is Ashley Davies; I used to be a friend of hers. I was wondering if I cou -"

"Lauren doesn't live here anymore."

With that, the crackling stopped and all communication ended. I frowned at the little silver speaker box and raised my finger to the button again, this time I made sure to hold down firmly until the other person answered.

"Look, I told you already..."

"I need to know, did she know of a Spencer Carlin?"

"Why?"

This woman was hard work. What was a simple yes or no to a stranger asking random questions?

"Yes or no."

"Yes, now answer my question. Why the hell would you need to know that?"

"Let me in and I'll explain."

"Not a chance, baby." I wasn't her _baby. _"And for the record, yes she did know Spencer Carlin and no, she doesn't care about anything that concerns that woman. The bitch ruined her life with her stupid article on anorexia."

I frown and fumble through my bag, reaching in I pull out the article and skim through it. Lauren Scott, model, runway figures, unhealthy idol. I didn't get it. If anything, this piece would have shot the woman's publicity through the goddamn roof.

"Can we talk face to face, this is kind of awkward."

"Wait there."

Two minutes later, the automatic door opens and I'm greeted with the sight of a woman in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. Dark hair flowed down her back, her eyes were dangerous and I noticed, for the first time, she wasn't wearing shoes. Hardly something you'd consider for a penthouse gal.

"Hi, look I know this is weird. My name's Ashley." I looked at her and she nodded.

"Carmen Canizares."

"Interesting surname."

"My dad was Spanish." Carmen sneered and then raised her eyebrow. "So…"

"I need to know what you meant when you said it ruined her life." I watched those eyes flash something terrifying and I took a subtle step back. I might be tough enough to not cry when my girlfriend goes missing, but this woman freaked me out a little.

"Spencer Carlin, she wrote about my girlfriend. Said she was disgusting, she did, said she should be fired." Carmen scowled and I felt the burn of bile deep in my chest. Spencer wouldn't say shit like that.

"She probably..."

"No, she said it alright? In black and white. Lauren, she was hounded by the press you know? For so long. You'd think they'd give up, find something else after a while, but they didn't. Seven months Lauren dealt with death threats from mother's who blamed them for their daughters eating disorder, seven months we had reporters chasing us, watching us, all the time."

I flinched when Carmen started to get angry, her voice was rising and I actually started to wish I was in front of Aiden Dennison again. At least he wasn't stupid enough to lash out at someone again, but this girl - I had no idea.

"But whatever, Lauren moved away and is living it up in Miami or something." Carmen shrugged.

"How long has she been gone?"

"Few months, she left me with a note and an apartment I can't afford." Her eyes darkened at the last words again and I tried hard not to frown. "So, why do you need to know if she knew...?"

"She's gone missing."

"Well trust me when I say this. Lauren wouldn't give two shits if Carlin did a running jump from Niagra. How did you know this Spencer anyway?"

"I'm her girlfriend." I don't say it in any sort of tone, but I let her knew she put her two cents in where they weren't that appreciated. Carmen smirked and raked her eyes over my tired body.

"Well, at least she had taste."

The door shut before I could even say anything else. I closed my eyes and resigned myself to the fact that Carmen wasn't going to open the door to me again, I wouldn't if I were her.

I knew some people hated what Spencer wrote, but that was journalism. Ninety percent of the time, she wrote nice things about people but when she wrote the truth - the shit hit the fan on full speed. The worst was Dennison though, I mean - I didn't even know Spencer had written an article on Lauren Scott. Sure, I read most of my baby's work but sometimes I was too busy. Maybe I'd missed it. I'm sure it wasn't some ploy, some revenge tactic for what had happened all that time ago. That wasn't who Spencer was.

Whatever she'd written; she wasn't doing it from spite. I know that.

It was a stupid mess, a large, complicated, stupid mess that I couldn't work out.

Aiden didn't seem clever enough to take Spence, he was hiding something but I doubt it's connected to her. He probably jacked off to her every night, or something equally gross.

Lauren, she was out of the picture. Miami, right? So she couldn't have done it. And Carmen, the woman I just saw, maybe she knew more than she was letting on.

I don't know.

I just want Spencer.

My adorable, loving, funny, intelligent Spencer.

I need her.

**1st October, 2012. 11:53am.**

"I'm going crazy, Chels." Ashley spoke softly as the two women cradled cups of coffee. They were sitting in Ashley and Spencer's apartment, mulling over articles and clientele lists that the newspaper Spencer worked for happily handed over. "I know she's waiting for me."

"She is waiting and she knows we're doing everything we can, Ashley." Chelsea smiled warmly and put her hand over Ashley's. The girl was a wreck.

Chelsea Daniels hated seeing her best friends girl like this. Spencer and Ashley had become like family to her, her own parents leaving when Chelsea turned eighteen. She'd received a post-card from the Caribbean two months later but she hadn't heard much since.

She didn't miss them.

But now Spencer had gone, it was eating away at her, the guilt was killing her slowly. Her mind flooded with 'what ifs.'

'_What if I had offered her a lift to work?'_

'_What if I'd told her that Dennison story wasn't worth it?'_

'_What if I'd met her outside, like I usually do?'_

Chelsea hated feeling so useless. Ever since turning into a young woman she had cared for herself, she had solved all problems thrown her way and she hadn't failed yet. But now she was at a loss, she didn't know what to do and during all of this she had to watch as another piece of Ashley fell away.

"I have to find her." Ashley drew her lips into an obstinate line and put the white mug onto the coffee table.

"We will."

"I tried to find that Lauren today, the one I mentioned? She's in Miami now apparently, has been for some time. I spoke to her girlfriend though, cold bitch if ever I've seen one but what can you do?" She picked up a picture and smiled at it. Spencer was beaming back at her, Chelsea on her left and Ashley on her right.

It was taken the night of Chelsea's art show, the dark woman had won a fabulous prize and had some funding to open up a new gallery. It was taking time, so Chelsea kept her job at the newspaper to cover the costs. Ashley had watched proudly as Chelsea accepted her gift and clapped just as loud as Spencer. It was a perfect night.

"You didn't like her I take it?"

"She spoke to me through the intercom, she was rude."

"What was she called?" Chelsea was genuinely intrigued and she put down another picture of a grinning Spencer.

"Carmen…something. It begins with a 'C', it's Spanish. Though, she really doesn't sound all that Spanish – more of an LA girl." Ashley told her, pulling her feet beneath her as she got comfortable on the couch.

Chelsea looked like she was thinking for a moment, before she whipped out her phone and began pressing a few buttons. Minutes passed, Chelsea engrossed in her phone and Ashley staring at a picture on the wall of her and Spencer.

"Canizares." Chelsea announced, causing the brown eyed girl to look at her with a quirked eyebrow. "Carmen Canizares, is that right?"

"Yeah, how did you –"

"I hired her to work at the gallery." The woman paused for a moment as she watched the anger and confusion wash over Ashley's face.

"Does she know Spencer?"

"I…Ashley, you should know, Carmen…"

"What? Carmen what?"

"She's into Spencer. Like, big time. She's always asking her to dinner and things, Spencer always says no."

Chelsea jumped as Ashley flew off of the couch and out of the door. Guilt washed over her again, she should have thought of Carmen first. But when Ashley started talking about Dennison, and someone having it out for Spencer because of something she had written; Chelsea figured that was it.

As she grabbed her things and chased Ashley out of the door, she hoped she had no reason to feel this guilty.

--

**September 12th, 2012. 12:20am.**

Spencer chuckled at the little note Ashley had placed in her bag. It had a little smiley face with a big heart, detailing how much Ashley loved her. Spencer knew if anybody else saw that, Ashley would never live it down and she had a 'reputation' to uphold. She sat back on the comfortable couch and waited for her friend Chelsea to finish grabbing her things from the gallery so they could go and have some lunch.

"You should do that more, Carlin." Spencer held back an eye roll as she heard the unmistakable voice of Carmen flood her ears.

"What?"

"Smile, you always look stressed. You're hot when you smile." The woman perched on the couch next to her and Spencer quickly shifted away, hoping that actions spoke louder than words.

"How you are still single astounds me, Carmen." Spencer spat sarcastically, "You have such a way with words."

"Hmm, I could show you more of my talents if you want." She snaked her hand across the couch and casually placed her hand over Spencer's, only to frown when Spencer snatched her hand back and sent her a cold glare.

"I'm not so sure my girlfriend would like that," The blonde stood up, "And neither would I."

"How do you know until I show you?"

"It takes five seconds for a person to make an opinion over a person, guess what I think of you." Blue eyes flicked down to the still seated woman and scowled when the dark haired girl smiled in that silky way of hers.

"I don't know, how about you show me?"

"I – Carmen, leave me alone." Spencer turned around and searched for her best friend, willing her to hurry up.

"I have an opinion on you, you know? I could detail it to you over dinner, Saturday night, seven o'clock." It pissed Spencer off how cocky Carmen actually was, it was like she couldn't take any hint at all.

"I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

"My girlfriend."

"Well, Spencer, don't you have a way with words." Carmen smirked but Spencer saw something flash across her eyes that scared her a little.

"I'm a journalist, I get paid to put my way with words into action." She heard a door open behind her and turned around fully to see Chelsea walking towards them.

"Ready to go?" The dark-skinned girl asked, smiling briefly at Carmen and then focusing on Spencer.

"Yeah." She looped her arm through Chelsea's and turned to Carmen. "I'll see you some other time, Carmen."

**1st October, 2012. 11:55am**

I can see her face when I close my eyes.

I've been keeping them closed a lot whilst I've been in here and so it makes perfect sense to see my Ashley when I do. It's nothing imparticular that I can see, she's not doing anything special. Smiling, talking, laughing, sleeping.

I take a deep breath and immediately wish that I hadn't. The damp smell in here is getting worse, like mould on top of mould. I can see it all on the walls, seeping into my atmosphere and I'm breathing it in. Bile rises in my throat and I swallow back repeatedly, forcing it back down. I gag at the acidic taste and feel my stomach clench, and not in the way that Ashley can make it clench.

One look, that's all it takes and I'm hers.

The cut on my leg is still painful, I think it's infected. This morning I was thrown a wash cloth and a bowl of tepid water, no threatening words were spoken and the door was shut before I was even on my feet. Food from dinner is still there, a bowl of mushroom soup.

I always throw mushrooms back up, I can't eat it.

My stomach protests to that though, it feels like it's curling in on itself but I'm certain I'll be given something else before the day ends. Despite being scared out of my mind, I'm being kept alive with food and water.

Which I think scares me the most.

Why am I still alive? Why is this person keeping me alive?

I mean, it's been long enough for whomever it is to come in and kill me. Unless there's a ransom. But if there is, why hasn't Ashley paid it? We have the money.

No, there can't be a ransom because if there was Ashley _would _have paid it and I wouldn't still be here.

She would do anything to get me back.

I know this because I'd do anything for her. I swear, I'd give this person anything if I could just fall asleep with Ashley again. I need to feel her arms wrap around my body, I can't sleep unless I feel those steady breaths against my skin, I can't relax unless I know she is safe and warm and perfectly okay.

She isn't though. My heart hasn't stopped clenching since I've been here and that only happens when Ashley is breaking. The last time I felt this was when we broke up. I've not felt it since.

"Here," the door opens and another plate is slid into the room. Once more before I can even stand up the door is slammed shut. I look towards the plate.

I can see mushrooms.

"I can't eat those," I whimper, knowing that they have probably gone. "I can't."

My stomach groans and I know I need to eat, I know I should. I close my eyes again and picture what me and Ashley would be doing right now.

She'd cook, she always does.

We'd have something Italian, she makes amazing Italian food. We'd sit down at our small table and eat in comfortable silence. I'd feel Ashley running her foot up and down my calf and I'd smile shyly, like I couldn't feel it.

I'd clean up, I always do.

She'd hold me from behind, tell me she loves me and place a kiss behind my ear. My favourite spot. I'd lean back into her and she'd chuckle deeply, I'd feel it in her chest and hold back a moan at the sensation. The dishes would be forgotten as she'd spin me round, laughing until she looked into my eyes.

She'd kiss me, she always does.

We'd fall into the bedroom, I'd undress her and she would me. I'd kiss every inch of skin, run my tongue over every crevice and bask in her unique flavour. We'd make love until neither of us could breathe and then we'd curl into one another. She'd murmur sweet things into my ear and I'd blush, returning the favour and letting her know verbally what she means to me.

I'd fall asleep first, I always do.

I open my eyes and I feel the wet tears on my cheeks. I lift my hands and run them through my hair, flinching when I bend my wrist the wrong way, probably opening one of the small cuts there.

I feel dizzy from the lack of food, I feel nauseous from the vile surroundings. My clothes have soaked up the disgusting floor contents and it chills me to the bones. I asked about toilets, about sinks and showers and a bucket was thrown into the room.

It's downright degrading to use such a thing.

I close my eyes again, ignoring the pain from my stomach and I picture her face.

I love her so much.


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as my feet hit the sidewalk I balked

**1st October, 2012. 11:57am**

As soon as my feet hit the sidewalk I balked. My heart stopped pounding and I started to breathe easier, leaning forward I put my hands on my knees and I took in several large gulps of air. I closed my eyes and focused solely on my breathing and remaining upright.

I heard Chelsea approach me before I felt the comforting hand on my shoulder. I wanted to be mad at her for not telling me about Carmen earlier, I wanted for her to know she should have said something; if not to me then at least to the police. But Chelsea wouldn't have done something like that out of spite, the very thought of her friend and employee doing something like this probably didn't even cross her mind.

Spinning around I let her wrap me in a comforting hug, her arms holding me tight to her as I fought back tears. If Carmen knew something then she wouldn't be stupid enough to stick around and wait for me to figure it out, she's probably long gone. Hell, I'm half expecting to turn up and be told she had moved out scant minutes after I'd left.

Would Carmen even have a reason for it though? What's her motive?

"I should have said something, I know. Long before any of this even happened." Chelsea's soft voice lulled me back to reality and I shook my head into her shoulder.

"No, it doesn't matter."

"Yes it does." She protested and pushed me away so she could look at me. "Even if it didn't go this far, you should have known Spencer had an admirer. I'm surprised she didn't tell you."

"She's been distracted recently." I hold my shoulders in a half-shrug and bite my bottom lip, something I've been doing a lot. "I'm going to go for a walk, clear my head a little."

"I'll come with, I could use the fresh air." Chelsea suggested, her tone implying everything. I knew it wasn't air she needed, it was the knowledge I wasn't about to go back to Carmen's apartment and rip her limb from limb.

"Okay."

We walked in comfortable silence as we approached the park. It wasn't much, just a playing field and a scenic route that people used for jogging or walking. It was nice enough on a warm day and some sort of beautiful at night, when it was lit up. I looked around and smiled a little, me and Spencer spent many a day here – eating ice-cream and chatting. Even before we got together, we'd drive out to the beach or a little park and spend time alone. It was nice.

"How did you two meet?" Chelsea asked lightly. She knew asking me could set off a chain reaction, but I was kind of happy for the distraction. Carmen was weighing heavily on my mind.

"At school, I was standing by my locker and she came up to me. She asked where her classroom was and after I'd spent a good portion of time checking her out, I took her there." I smile at the memory, remembering how Spencer's eyes lit up when I told her I'd walk her.

"Instant friends I take it?"

"Sort of. We were made lab partners and we became better friends that way. She'd come over to mine and finish off my work, I didn't pay much attention."

We share a laugh and find a bench to sit down on. I kick the hard floor with my shoe and clasp my hands together, my mind drifting to Spencer and how she is right now.

"I can still feel her, you know? She's scared." I whisper it because I know how absurd it sounds, yet I know how true it is. My baby is frightened and I don't know where she is, I can't help her like I always have done.

"She knows you're coming." Chelsea whispered. "You know this Carmen thing? Maybe we should go to the police."

I'd agree, but right now I want to find her myself. If she wouldn't say anything to me, she isn't going to say anything to the police and it's not like we have any evidence.

"We have no proof."

"We have a motive," She continued encouragingly. "If you want to protect her, go and find who did it."

"I just need something, a sign, just to know she is okay." I whisper, looking down at the floor.

**February 26th, 2010. 20:23pm. **

Ashley scrolled through Spencer's play list and frowned at the music that would assault her ears if she even thought of clicking 'play'. She ignored the mundane pop crap her girlfriend listened to and went straight to 'their' play list that Ashley had created days after they had gotten back together.

Hurting Spencer like that, making her feel unloved because she wanted to feel wanted wasn't right – it was the biggest mistake of her short, soon to be, twenty years.

She had made it up on Valentines day though, with the typical over-the-top romantic gifts. Four dozen roses were delivered in the morning, followed by gifts every hour and finally topped with a large, and expensive, romantic meal at a restaurant Ashley had paid to close for the night.

"You know, if you're searching for porn it's in a hidden folder."

Spencer's voice caused Ashley to simultaneously jump and smile. The brunette span in the chair and looked at her girlfriend. It was times like these she became religious for a moment and thanked God that Spencer had an en-suite private dorm room at college.

In front of her, the blonde beauty was wearing nothing but a towel and a very amused expression. Slowly, she walked over to Ashley and placed herself on the girls' lap.

"You've been holding out on me, Carlin." She pouted

"Maybe, but I've heard you like a girl to have a little mystery about her." Spencer giggled and pressed her lips against Ashley's waiting ones. Both sighed into it, relishing the feeling, trying to forget that they had almost lost these moments. Moments where their hearts would stop.

"It's true." Uncaring that her girlfriends body was damp, Ashley wrapped her arms tighter around the girl and hauled her closer. "What are we doing tonight?"

Pale fingers ran down a tanned neck as Spencer shrugged. Ashley watched as blue eyes darkened subtly and the blondes breathing picked up, by just a fraction. Brown eyes scanned over the body in front of her, a few droplets of water were dotted on perfect shoulders; evidence of the still drying hair. Ashley loved it when she was like this, all natural, all Spencer.

"I have an essay to finish, but after that we can go into town if you'd like? Meet up with some friends." Ashley watched something unrecognizable dance in deep blue eyes. Spencer, although she never said it, no longer felt utterly comfortable around a group of people since their break-up. It wasn't jealousy, but Ashley could see something eating at her.

"I don't fancy going out tonight, Spence." The brunette said softly, her index finger slowly dragged the small towel farther up toned thighs. She shifted a little on the brown leather chair and smirked inwardly at her brilliant idea of turning all the lights off, but the one on the desk. It made the room more comfortable, more intimate.

Spencer snickered and grabbed a hold of the inquisitive finger before it circled any higher on her damp skin. Cocking an eyebrow at Ashley, she moved the hand back down her leg and held it firmly against her exposed knee.

"I don't think so, I'm still sore from last night."

Ashley chuckled but conceded defeat. Although it was a Saturday night and they were alone, she knew Spencer was focused on finishing her essay for Monday. It was always that way, Spencer would work hard on a Saturday, or even a Friday, night and then reward herself with Ashley all of Sunday.

The brunette never complained.

"Okay, well, how about you finish your work and I'll go to the Chinese and pick us up something to eat? I have that new Cohen Brothers film." Unable to help herself, Ashley leant forward and placed a few butterfly kisses on Spencer's neck. Though she was sitting down, she felt her knees buckling under the sweet taste of the girl above her.

"Are you sure? We can go out or you can meet up with Kyla."

"I'm sure. I want a night alone. I've missed just being with you." It was true, Spencer's workload was hitting them hard and though they practically spent every moment in each other's company they were busy doing other things. Spencer usually spent time working, or sleeping, and Ashley compensated on a Sunday night (and any other night) in order to be close to her.

It wasn't about the sex though.

Even if it was blisteringly hot.

Even if they did keep other people in the building awake, on occasion.

It was about being close, being intimate. If that meant cuddling and watching a film whilst eating Chinese, then so be it. Ashley would take that over sitting in her apartment with her sister watching re-runs of crime shows.

"I've missed you too." Spencer replied, her eyes turning soft. She melted her lips to Ashley's once more, closing her eyes at the sensation and feeling that familiar fire start up in her stomach. Reluctantly she slowed the kiss down and pulled away.

Grinning, an idea popped into the blondes head and as she stood up, she pressed her towel clad body hard into the girl's beneath her. She felt, as much as heard, Ashley inhale sharply and she felt mighty proud when those soft eyes she loved turned black. Sauntering to her closet, she distinctively heard Ashley muttering cuss words about Spencer's professor giving her way too much work. She laughed silently as she pulled on her nightwear (a pair of boy shorts and a well worn t-shirt Ashley had left.)

"You're a tease Miss. Carlin." Spencer jumped as two hands wrapped around her midsection and pulled her back roughly. "Are you sure you're still sore? I can make it better." A wet kiss was placed behind her ear and Spencer smiled slowly.

"Tomorrow, I promise. This essay is kicking my ass, but when you come back I swear I'll have done a good amount and we can curl up to watch a film."

"Mmm," Ashley nipped at the tempting earlobe in reach before moving away and leaving Spencer cold and lonely. "That sounds perfect." The brunette smiled at her, reassuring her that any time with Spencer was perfect.

Ashley knew she'd had a reputation back in High School, she knew people whispered that she only got into relationships on the basis it held regular sex. She knew Spencer had heard those rumours. And though they had been together a long time, she could sometimes see the uncertainty in Spencer's eyes when she told Ashley that she didn't want it.

Ashley never wanted her to feel like that was the only reason they were together.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." She stepped forward again and kissed Spencer, slow and deep. Hopefully reassuring the younger girl that it was perfect, and it was that way because it was time together. Ashley smiled though and couldn't help the arousal swimming inside her when she felt a soft hand stroking at the hot skin under her clothes.

Spencer slowly crept her hand up Ashley's ribs and stopped when her fingertips came into contact with her bra. Slowly, she swept her thumb across the delicate skin and shivered when Ashley moaned into her mouth.

All contact stopped as Spencer pulled back, grinning idiotically when Ashley failed to open her eyes again and kept her lips pursed. Placing a quick and chaste kiss onto the mouth in front of her, Spencer took a step back.

"You said something about Chinese?"

"Uh…"

"And a movie?"

"I, uh, um…"

"I'll go and get a head start on my paper, don't be too long." Spencer giggled at the confused expression on her girlfriends face.

"God Spencer, the things you do to me." Ashley knew better than to push it, but she was only human. She ran her hands down her clothes to make sure she looked presentable and then turned her dark eyes to the smiling angel in front of her. "Such a tease."

"Hey, innocent groping is not teasing." Spencer held her hands up.

"Tell that to my nipples." Ashley countered, knowing full well her body was humming with desire. "I'll be an hour, tops."

"I'll miss you." The blonde followed her girlfriend to the door and watched as the tanned woman picked up her purse.

"I know, now go and kick ass on that essay. Make me proud."

"Nothing with –"

"Mushrooms, I know Spencer." With a final parting kiss and a quick slap to Spencer's behind, Ashley was gone.

--

**1st October, 2012. 14:30pm**

It's quiet, like seriously quiet.

Usually I can hear water, people walking and talking; but today I can't hear anything at all. I liked it better when I could, because now I'm afraid again. I'm so scared that I'm shaking violently. My back is pressed hard against the wall, hoping it would stop my body from convulsing like it has been for the past innumerate amount of minutes.

My ears perk up when I hear someone approaching. I'm pretty sure it's a woman, I'm not saying a woman did this, but each time someone approaches heels echo across the walkway. It's kind of unnerving that I know this, but it feels as though I have been here long enough to fucking identify what style of shoes they are.

I don't even look up this time when the door opens, because by the time my eyelids snap open the door is shut and the footsteps are re-treating. This time though, I don't hear the door shut and I look up slowly.

I see a person stood in the doorway, dark eyes stare into mine and I can't recognise who it is. Instead she stands there, staring at me, scaring me.

"Here," The voice is different, this one is soft and melodic. Usually it's harsh, angry and bitter; this isn't the person I'm used to. "You can write one letter." A pad of paper and a pen is dropped to the damp floor and I hold back from rolling my eyes, knowing the paper could probably be useless now.

"I –"

"Shut up. One letter, I read it before it's sent so don't put anything stupid. Say you're being treated fine."

The door is slammed closed again and I make no move to go and grab the paper, I know who I'd write to and I'm pretty sure _they _know who I'd write to.

Instead I slam my back against the wall again and continue to shake.

It's gone quiet once more.


	6. Chapter 6

**1st October, 2012. 23:33pm**

The only light that shone in the large room was the dim desk lamp in front of Detective Harper and his pile of notes. His black tie was hanging loosely around his neck and his pale blue shirt was alive with wrinkles. He rubbed his closed eyes hard with his forefinger and his thumb before letting out a lengthy sigh and making the fatal mistake of looking at the clock.

23:33pm.

He shook his head and tried to clear his mind of the lethargic fog that was settling down on him. He knew being awake at this time wouldn't get him anywhere further than if he had left the office at nine, but he wanted to look over everything again. Licking his dry bottom lip he leant forward and picked up his coffee cup and was hardly surprised to find it empty, he just wanted to check again. Looking across the room he saw the coffee machine had a few beans left in it and with a low moan, he stood up and clicked on the little machine.

Spencer Carlin.

Twenty two years of age.

Journalist.

In a steady relationship with one, Miss. Ashley Davies.

Missing for six days. Well, six days officially in twenty five minutes.

Her girlfriend was devastated; he could see that, he didn't need to rely on his detective skills or anything else. It was obvious by the bags under those dull eyes and the mournful expression. He felt awful for the young girl; he looked at her and all he could feel was guilt for not finding the key to this girl's happiness. He imagined her smile being wonderful. He imagined that her and young Spencer were very much in love and very happy.

He wished he still had that rather than a run down coffee machine and wrinkled clothes. He briefly thought back to his own marriage, well he thought back to his marriage before he spent more time in the office than with his wife and daughter. Loosing his wife Jennifer like that had been hard, he'd come home after solving the case of child abuse caused by the father, to find Jennifer's and their daughters things gone and a note on the counter.

_One day I won't come in second place. _

He let out another long sigh and let the smiling face of his ex wipe from his mind before pouring himself a cup of the thick liquid. He dark eyes glanced at his board with his notes and he walked back over to his desk contemplating what he'd already found out and what he was yet to uncover. Still limber after all these years, Harper swung his legs up onto his desk and crossed them at the ankle. Something wasn't adding up.

"Jackson, why are you still here?" He heard her voice before she had even opened the door. Jessica walked into the office holding a bag that suspiciously smelt like bagels and/or muffins.

"Why are you?"

"I never stayed," She lifted the white bag and flashed him a smile; "I left and then came back." She clicked over to his desk and sat down across from him, placing the snacks down and studying his expression.

"What am I not seeing, Danes?" He mumbled lowly, his eyes flashing with a sadness Jessica had never seen before. Instead of replying, she simply opened her bagel (which surprisingly hadn't been hard to purchase at eleven o'clock at night) and took a delicate mouthful. "Where have I gone wrong? What have I missed?"

"If I knew then the case would have been solved days ago." She replied, not one to hide her blunt nature. It was true, she wouldn't coddle him and tell him things he wanted to hear - the fact was, they had hit a brick wall and had nowhere to go.

"Whoever has this lady," He looked at the pretty smiling picture of Spencer Carlin and smiled ruefully, "Whoever has her, he's a clever fuck."

"He? How can you be so sure?" Jessica questioned, licking some bread off of her rosy lips.

"What do you mean?" His legs slipped off of the desk and he shifted forward in his chair. "You think a woman has her?"

"I don't know but I'm not going to rule it out, you know? What about her friend, Chelsea Daniels, have we talked to her?"

"Briefly, it didn't lead anywhere." He frowned, trying to picture the woman's face. Yeah, he'd talked to her and she'd been forthcoming to all of their questions. Seemed like a good, honest girl.

"Maybe we should try her again," Jessica shrugged, screwing up her napkin and throwing it to the bin. "I think she knows more than she's letting on."

"What makes you say that?"

"Chelsea knew that Carmen Canizares had a crush on Spencer, but she didn't say anything. She also knew that Canizares didn't respond well to Miss. Carlin's repeated refusal for a date. Why didn't she say anything? A jealous crush seems kind of important to me."

"How did you find this out?"

"Miss. Davies phoned me personally about half hour ago. I was in the middle of some background searches when I saw your light on, I didn't think you'd still be here." She raised an amused eyebrow and Jackson smiled warmly at the young woman. "But here you are."

Jackson nodded thoughtfully; he'd been a little thrown at Chelsea's reluctance to come forward about Carmen's role in Spencer Carlin's life. He cracked his fingers before linking them tight and putting them behind his head as he lent back with his eyes closed. He let the name of Carmen Canizares flit around his mind before he opened his eyes and looked at his partner, who was mid-sip of _his _coffee.

Whatever, he'd get another.

"Where do I know that name?"

"Canizares?" She smirked as though she'd been waiting for that question. She probably had. "We brought her in a few years back, arson and common assault. Arrogant one she is, got off on a technicality." Jessica rolled her eyes before placing the older man's drink down carefully. "Works with Daniel's at her art studio."

"Mmm." He flicked through his notes on the desk and pulled out a small note about Chelsea Daniel's relationship to Ashley and of course, to Spencer. He scanned the handwritten notes and separated it from the pile. He then turned his attention to his computer and spent several minutes searching for Carmen. When he found her past files, plus a rather unflattering picture of a pissed off nineteen year old, he printed it off and put it with the other girls.

"Sir?" Jessica frowned as he pushed the paper towards her with his index finger.

"Bring them in tomorrow," He stood up and felt his back pop into place. "Both of them."

**2nd October, 2012. 09:01am**

I'm shaking painfully.

On my counter, in _her _handwriting, is a letter.

A folded up piece of paper, written by Spencer to me, for me.

I'm still shaking.

I think I'm going to throw up, cry and scream in happiness all at the same time.

I've read it already, too many times. It tells me that she's safe, it tells me that she loves me, it tells me she's scared and she's putting all of her trust in me to find her. Of course, it doesn't say that last little bit but I know Spencer better than I know myself. I know when she wrote, _I love you and I know you love me with all your heart, _she was telling me she knew I was searching for her. She has to know, she has to feel it.

I think I'm crying.

She's alive, I mean I already knew that, but now I have proof.

I pick up the letter and hold it up; frowning when I notice something I didn't see before. I walk over to the floor to ceiling window and hold it up to the light, the bile rising up almost instantaneously. There, written into the paper, invisibly, is the sentence; _It's damp where I am, I can hear people. I don't know the person; I think it's a woman. _

She must have written it with the back of something, so it was engrained onto the paper but could only be seen in the light of day. I taught her that when we were fifteen, when we were passing notes in class once. I taught her that if she wrote onto one piece of paper, with another beneath it, just hard enough, the paper underneath would have everything written on - but it couldn't been seen unless you were looking for it. Cute trick, I thought she'd forgotten it.

I pick up my phone and dial Chelsea's number, this is huge. I can get the police involved, we have a lead, I knew my baby was a genius. I frown when I hear the automated voice telling me that Chelsea's phone is turned off. It's never turned off, she has it on in case dealers want to talk to her about her artwork or the newspaper needs her at short notice. On a whim I try her work phone.

_"Good morning, LA Times, this is Mariah speaking how can I help?" _I roll my eyes at the girls' voice, I've met her one or two times before and she always annoyed the fuck out of me. Spencer says she's cute, I disagree.

"Hey Mariah, it's Ashley." I cringe at how fake I sound.

_"Oh, hey Ashley. How are you? Everyone here is just so down without Spence, she's loved you know?"_

"Yeah, I know. I'm one of those who love her." This time I don't stop myself rolling my eyes. "Can you put me through to Chelsea please?"

_"Didn't you hear?"_

"What?"

_"I'm not sure I'm allow -"_

"Mariah, tell me. Where's Chelsea?" I can feel my heart pounding, the blood running cold as all my worst fears run through my mind.

_"Some officers came in this morning at like, eight." _My heart isn't pounding anymore. _"They took her in for questioning." _I think it's stopped beating.

**2nd October, 2012. 19:37pm**

I hope she got my letter, I hope she found my secret.

She will have, knowing my baby she will have read it more times than she can even count. She won't have missed it.

My stomach tightens painfully, I've had nothing to eat all day and nobody has been in to hurl abuse at me or give me something to eat.

Ashley always used to tease me about how much I could eat in one sitting. When we were younger she used to be like a bottomless pit, especially when it came to Chinese food. Cakes, sweets, ice-cream - all that junk, she'd just pile it away and still keep those to die for abs. I always refrained, my portions would be smaller and I would always finish first; not that Ashley would have noticed if some noodles were in front of her. Then we grew up and we kind of reversed, Ashley is the more reserved one whilst I have more fun slobbing around eating cookies and chowing down on leftover pizza.

Ashley helps me burn the calories away though, don't you worry about that.

I can hear people above me today. It sounds like people walking on boards, like on a boardwalk on the beach. I can hear talking, but I can't make distinctions of what they are saying and if it's a male or a female. There are a lot of people though, throughout the day. The other noises are muffled, like words, but footsteps are as clear as day and they always stop around the same time; generally. It's been a long time since I've had someone come in here so I take a chance, I stand up and before I can register what I'm doing I'm screaming towards the ceiling at the top of my lungs, I'm not even saying anything serious, I'm just making noise.

If I can hear them, they should hear me.

I scream until my throat burns and my eyes water. I yell out for someone to help me, to hear me. The noises above me don't lessen but they don't quicken to come to my rescue either.

"Help me," I whimper pathetically, dropping to my knees, and then sliding my legs sideways so I can sit down. "Please."

It's quiet for all of five minutes and I'm starting to lose hope again, the only time I can get it back is to think of Ashley, to dream of her but right now all I can think of is how I'm stuck in a damp, cold, tiny room with nothing but bloodied clothes and a fucking bucket. I stand up and let out a frustrated scream, feeling the hot tears burn my cheeks as they make a path down my jaw and onto my neck.

I run to the door and kick it.

Once.

Twice.

I loose count, I slap it, kick it, punch it until I feel the flesh on my knuckles tear and my skin bruise. I keep going until I can't breathe, until I can see for tears and I can't feel anything but the harsh sting on my hands and feet.

"Where the fuck are you?! You fucking coward. Where are you?"

I feel dizzy, the lack of food and sleep is catching up with me and I think I drained the tiny amount of energy I had left beating the shit out of a door that can't fight back. I swallow repeatedly until the room spins, stretches and finally goes black.

I hit the floor hard.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Hey guys, sorry for the delay. Not even going to make excuses, just simply because you've heard enough of them.**_

_**Anyway; this chapter was written to the album "Dark Horse" by Nickleback - two or three of the songs on there remind me of 'Spashley' and if you've heard it you'll agree with me; if you haven't - listen to it. This was mainly written to the two songs "Gotta Be Somebody" and "I'd Come For You." - so if you want to get into my mindset for how I was when writing this, then listen to those as you read it lol.**_

_**Anywho...Enjoy.**_

**--**

**2nd October, 2012. 14:19pm**

Carmen watched the two officers with an expression of total boredom. Internally she was screaming to get out of this place, to get out of this room; she had more important things to do. She leant back on the hard chair and ignored the pain in her lower back, a bruise had formed weeks ago and was stubbornly sticking around. The taller of the two policemen smirked when she felt herself slip, but with a calm exterior and a rapid heartbeat, she pulled herself upright and smirked back.

"Somethin' on your mind?" She questioned roughly, her voice was thick with lethargic energy and she knew her eyes were looking heavy. Six hours of questioning would do that to a person.

"No comment." The officer grinned at her, repeating the same words she had spat at Rebecca Danes only an hour earlier.

"Whatever. Can I go now? I've answered every fucking question you've thrown at me. You can't keep me without evidence." She leant on her forearms and stared the dark haired man down. He simply sniffed at her and turned away, whispering something to his fellow friend, before turning back.

"Just sit and stay quiet, girl."

"I don't understand what I'm supposed to have done. Nobody around here has explained anything to me and I'm getting sick of it." She slammed her fist down and pushed herself upright, the grey plastic chair shooting out exceptionally quickly. "So charge me or let me go."

"Do I have a reason to charge you, Carmen?" Detective Harper walked in through the door behind her, but Carmen neither flinched nor looked away from the obnoxious guard.

"What do you think?" She snarled.

"I think you have a good few reasons to want Miss. Carlin out of the way. I think you had ample opportunity, given your relationship with her best friend. I think you know more than you're letting on." He calmly strode over to the table. Setting the files down gently he turned his eyes to the seething girl in front of him. "Should I continue?"

"Do whatever you want." Turning on her heel she picked up her chair and sat down in it, without bringing it further forwards to the table.

"Where were you on the morning of September the twenty-seventh?"

"In bed."

"Don't you have work at that time? Surely you didn't sleep in." He smiled slowly, before sitting down and fiddling with a ballpoint pen that was attached to the case file. "I can't see you as the type to not turn into work."

"How many art shows start at eight in the morning on a Thursday at the end of a month?"

"I wouldn't know, yours could."

"It doesn't."

"So you were in bed? Were you alone, or could someone back you up on this story?" He watched the girl fidgit a little and noted it in the back of his mind.

Unfortunately, and he didn't want to admit it, but Carmen was looking to be a prime suspect in this case. The girl had a troubled past, in and out of foster homes until the age of sixteen when she ran away; her parents had died in a house fire and she had no other close family members. Aged seventeen she was arrested and taken in for possession, there she did a small amount of time before being sent back out and into the unwilling arms of her Aunt Sarah. It didn't take long before she was picked up again for graffiti and there on was in and out of trouble.

It made his heart sink to know she wasn't over it. He _hoped _she had nothing to do with it, that she had turned over a brand new leaf and was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

His mind disagreed though.

She had the motive.

"I've already fucking told you once, listen!" She was getting angry, frustrated and it was showing. "I was alone, like every other fucking night. Happy now?"

She didn't have an alibi.

"Funny," The detective murmured.

"What? That I'm alone?" She crossed her arms. "You get used to it."

"No, that you said eight in the morning." His dark eyes landed on her face, which had now furrowed and tightened all at the same time.

"What?"

"I never mentioned a time, at all. Yet you said, and I quote, 'how many art shows start at eight in the morning?' only moments ago."

"I was being general."

He could see she wasn't though and his heart sank lower.

"How did you remember the day, also?" He swallowed the harsh feeling that he could be looking a kidnapper in the face and held onto his strong beliefs.

"I'm good at stuff like that. Gotta be wise when you live on the streets."

"About what day it is? Doubtful."

"If you don't remember it's a Friday night you might stumble into the wrong place at the wrong time." She held his glare before crossing her arms and looking to the floor.

"Have you ever stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time?" He asked softly, hoping to win her around that way. Everything else was just useless.

"Maybe." She smiled horribly slowly and raised her head up. She blinked at the detective under her long eyelashes and the sick smile stuck in place. In the twenty seven years he had worked, Jackson Harper had never seen such a look on such a pretty face. It made his stomach curl and his breath stop, just for a moment. She looked like she knew something. "Maybe like Spencer stumbled into the wrong place."

"Carmen..." He paused and took in the girls defensive pose; she could certainly have taken the poor blonde somewhere. She wasn't excessively huge, but he could see upper arm strength about her and she had deep knowledge about downtown LA. She knew where to go, where not to go, where you could hide out. "What happened to Spencer?"

"Who knows? Maybe she found someone other than that skank. Or, maybe, just maybe, she has been taken. She could be dead, rotting under Union Station as we speak." Her eyes flashed with humor and she laughed sardonically.

"Union Station?"

"Maybe City Hall."

"Landmarks?"

"You know the truly hilarious thing about this whole situation?" She chuckled lowly and kept staring at him, her dark eyes never leaving his own. "That if it is me who's taken her, if I'm the one who you think did this, then what's happening to poor Spencer now? The longer you keep me here, the longer she goes without food and water. She'll deteriorate, her stomach might swell, she'll become dehydrated and you can't last forever without water."

"What are you telling me, Carmen?" Detective Harper leant forward on the table, his white sleeves of his shirt rolled up and the low light didn't help hide the bags under his eyes. He stared at the silent girl for long minutes and she didn't speak, all the nerve cells in his body burst open and screamed their frustration. "Do you know where Spencer Carlin is?"

"No," She smirked again and crossed her legs, "But if you want to keep me, and maybe let those things happen to a pretty little girl like Spencer, then I want a lawyer."

---

**2nd October, 2012. 14:30pm**

Do you ever think you can run out of tears? I do.

It doesn't mean I've forgotten about Spencer, or that I've given up, but I just don't think I can cry anymore.

Sleeping and eating? Forget about them, I gave those up days ago.

If Spencer was here she'd hate me for that. I once told her I could stay awake for a full five days and still feel fine, she said I couldn't, so I did. She told me I looked like the walking dead and that she wasn't kissing me until I went and had a goodnight's sleep; I told her I wouldn't sleep well unless she slept next to me.

We didn't leave the room for two days.

Do you ever think that your broken heart can break even further? I do.

Mine has been shattered, kicked, blended and then thrown into a throbbing sea. I still know I'm in love with Spencer, I know I miss her so much that I'm perpetually tense, I know I'm pushing away the people I need. But I just don't think I can _feel _any of these things anymore.

The door to the side opens and I snap my head up so fast I worry about my spine, just for a moment.

In front of me stands a frightened looking Chelsea Daniel's, confusion is all over her face and she looks physically sick. I take a step towards her but she is roughly pulled towards the desk by a female officer, the auburn haired woman talks quickly to the young black man behind the wooden desk.

Chelsea has tears running down her face and she nods at something that the young policewoman says to her.

Then she turns to me, regret in her eyes and she mouths one sentence that floors me completely.

"I'm sorry."

She's led away and I have to sit back, my whole body going hot and then numb within seconds. I swallow hard and watch as my girlfriend's best friend is led through another door, I watch as everything crumbles in front of me and I watch the door close on everything that I know and trust.

Chelsea?

Do you ever believe your world can collapse in on itself even after it's already imploded? I do.

--

**24th December, 2010. 23:55pm**

"Oh, Ashley, it's nearly Christmas!" Spencer ran into her living room, happy to be back with her family for the holidays but hating she couldn't stay at her girlfriends. Still, with her parents out doing God knows what and her brother out doing God knows who; it didn't seem all that bad.

"It is." The brunette laughed, popping another delicious chocolate into her mouth and focusing back on the movie Spencer had put on earlier. She didn't know what it was, but she wanted to be obnoxious and not show how excited she was to spend it with the girl next to her.

"What did you get me?"

"A surprise."

"I didn't know you could wrap an emotion." Spencer deadpanned and cuddled into the side of her girl, casually draping a blanket over the both of them and snuggling into the warmth.

"You'd be shocked at the many talents I have lying underneath this pretty exterior."

"Ashley, I know all of your talents." The blonde lifted her head and smirked in that sexy little way that sent Ashley's blood pressure through the roof and turned her into a fifteen year old boy. "In great detail."

"Really? Well did you know that I've bought a..." She leant forward and whispered something so deliciously naughty into Spencer's ear that the poor girl flushed a bright red. White teeth bit into a supple bottom lip and Spencer turned her head to the side, their noses bumping on her little journey and their breath mingling.

"I didn't know that, no."

"I could always show you, Spencer." Ashley used that low voice that Spencer craved so much, her hand had already started a journey up to the juncture of the girls thighs and she was slowly coaxing them apart. "God, I so want to show you."

"But, it's Christmas in three minutes." The blonde breathed out, for reason unknown to even her.

"Consider it an early present then."

"Ash..."

A door slam and a quick jump apart.

"Ashley...hi." Paula greeted stiffly, obviously shocked by the brunettes appearance. She hadn't been there when she'd left for dinner.

"Mrs C. How do you do?" Ashley mock waved the older blonde, never tiring of pissing her off; even if she said she'd matured, she really kind of hadn't.

"What were you doing, girls?" Arthur seemed to appear from nowhere and the innocent question caused the silent Spencer to sink further into the couch. The couch she and Ashley were going to...Oh, shit.

"Watching a film, Mr. C." The brunette smiled, "And talking about what we had bought one another."

"That's nice." He smiled, ignoring his wife's obvious disgust. "Are you two tired yet? I'm wide awake and fancy a famous Carlin hot chocolate. Fancy it, girls?"

"It's a little late, hon." The oldest blonde challenged.

"Aw, come on Paula. Lighten up, it's Christmas." His blue eyes focused on the two, still slightly flustered, girls on the couch. "So...hot chocolate?"

"I'd like one please, dad..." Spencer squeaked, finally breaking her silence.

"Yeah, let's get into the Christmas spirit early." Her gaze locked onto Spencer's dark blue eyes and she grinned wickedly. "We've a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

"We do, hopefully you've gotten my daughter something special." Arthur laughed to himself as he strolled into the kitchen, closely followed by a frantic Paula. Her kitchen shouldn't get messy at this time.

"Oh, I've gotten her something she'll never forget." Ashley licked her lips and dragged her hand slowly back up Spencer's thigh. "Something she'll always remember."

---

**2nd October, 2012. 15:10pm**

I'm in pain.

Not only that, but I'm so hungry, so thirsty, that I've thrown up twice.

It does nothing to mask the putrid smell of this place anyway.

The skin on my knuckles is torn and has bled onto my dirty clothes, something I should care about. But I don't. I really, really, don't care about anything anymore. I've given up, I can't hold onto something when all I'm grasping at is air. I'm falling and Ashley would always catch me, or grab me, but Ashley isn't here. She isn't anywhere.

Like, like when we broke up for the first time.

Those days, when we had no contact, it hurt so much she didn't even try.

And it feels like it now.

She isn't anywhere, is she? She isn't trying to find me and make me feel better. She hasn't dried my tears or rubbed my back when I felt sick. She hasn't whispered comforting words into my ear, or held me so close that I felt so safe...so perfect.

No, she hasn't.

Why hasn't she? Why am I still here and she's out there?

Where the fuck is she?

My heart swells with guilt for feeling like this, but she's always said she's the only person who knows me better than anyone, who feels me better than anyone. If that's so true why hasn't she found me? Why hasn't she trailed every fucking place in LA to get to me?

She's been like this for as long as I've known her, but this really isn't the time for her to run and I hope to God she hasn't.

I couldn't handle that.

I open my eyes and I'm still in this fucking room, with vomit still on my trousers and blood on my hands.

She has to find me...

Right?


	8. Chapter 8

**2nd October, 2012. 14:42pm **

She knew she was being spoken to, knew that it was important that she'd reply, but in all honesty she didn't want to. She didn't have the answers, or the reasons. Out of all the feelings swarming inside of her, the most she could feel was the intense fatigue. She'd been awake longer than was physically healthy and she just wanted to curl up in a little ball and sleep for a few good, comfortable hours. Her brain would be on track at least then, she'd be able to answer questions properly. Problem was, they were asking the same fucking questions over and over. What was the point?

"Miss Lewis -"

"Daniels." The young girl cut the detective off sharply and precisely. Chelsea Lewis was long gone, back in Michigan with her dead-beat father and loving mother. "Chelsea Daniels is my name now, so I'd appreciate it if you'd address me correctly." Her soft eyes darkened and Jackson felt a shiver run through his body at how quick the girl changed.

"Of course, apologies." Jackson, just as tired as the young girl in front of him, sighed out his response. "I assume you understand why we have brought you in?"

"Spencer." The dark girl mumbled lowly, eyes cast down.

"Spencer, yes." This girl was extremely different to the last. This one was more withdrawn, more pitying and scared. Her shoulders were either hunched and tense or relaxed and open. He couldn't truly figure out how to approach her, the direct route, he assumed, would scare her into silence. Or, on the otherhand, it might scare her enough to talk. To hell with politically correct behavior, there was a girls life in his hands and if he left it any longer he could be comforting a devastated brunette and a close family unit.

"She's okay, right?"

"I wouldn't know, Chelsea. I don't know where she is." He answered softly, before sitting up straight and cracking his back. "Do you?"

The girl remained mute and internally he sighed sadly. Why would this fragile young woman want Spencer Carlin out of the way? What had the blonde ever done to hurt her? His partner, Jessica, had a few good ideas but they were a little far-fetched. Then again, people were shot for less in this city.

"Chelsea, what happened that morning Spencer went missing?" His voice was rougher now and he saw the woman flinch a little, he almost felt sorry until she continued staying mute. "Miss Daniels, you need to answer the question. What happened that morning?"

"She always got the praise." Chelsea lifted her head and smiled sadly, "Like, people didn't even realise that we were a partnership. It was always 'well done, Spencer' or 'good article, Carlin.' I never got any of that. I was the photographer and that was it." She laughed bitterly and looked right into Harper's eyes, bore straight through to his soul. "Do you have any idea how hard that is? To watch your life's work be taken by someone who isn't worthy of it?"

"You think she stole your work?"

"No, I know she did! I mean, I just wanted some recognition of my own. I just wanted someone to say, well done, to me for once. She had it all and everyone was sick of it, you know? I mean, how can somebody have everything and their best friend have nothing?" Her eyes clouded over and Jackson watched with twisted interest as she told her story. "She came willingly, so you know. I didn't hurt her."

"Where is she, Chelsea?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Why not? You've already told us you did it, why not tell us where and why?"

"And ruin the biggest story I have going for me? No. No, I can't do that. For once I'm going to get some praise, some fucking attention for once. And Spencer? Spencer can sit back and watch."

"Chelsea, she's in serious danger. You know this. You know she could die, you're not a murderer."

"How do you know?"

Detective Harper sat back in shock. This beautiful, intelligent, wonderful woman was admitting to kidnapping her best friend. She was admitting to locking her up, hiding her away from her love and her family and she didn't seem the slightest bit remorseful.

"What happened that morning?"

A sinister smile split the girls face and she laughed a little, before twisting sideways in her chair and making herself comfortable. She crossed her legs at the ankle, like a proper lady should, and lent her left elbow on the table so she could rest her head on her hand. She let precious time go by before she even thought of replying and when she did, it wasn't what he was expecting.

"Do you have kids, detective?"

"I don't see what that has to do with -"

"Would you want the best out of life, for them? I mean, if they could succeed in doing anything; you'd want them to do well. Wouldn't you?"

"Of course."

"See, my parents didn't think I'd amount to much. But I did, I'm pretty amazing at what I do. I have my own business and I work in journalism, you'd think they'd be proud right?" She sucked on her bottom lip before turning to the older man, a thoughtful expression adorning her pretty face. "You know it was my birthday a few months back and the only person who rang to congratulate me, say well done to the fact I'd survived another three-hundred and sixty-five days without throwing myself under a bus, was Spencer."

"That's a good friend." Jackson was confused, more than confused. Where was the girl going with this?

"My parents didn't, not even my mother and we're close." She rolled her eyes at herself and leant back in the chair again. "Spencer remembers stuff like that, she's good at it. Like, she knows exactly what perfume Ashley likes. She knows what color Ashley likes. She knows what food, drink, television programme that Ashley likes." Tilting her head back she regarded the ceiling. "She knows everything about Ashley, it's sickening sometimes."

"They love each other, Chelsea. Of course they would know everything about one another."

"Ashley doesn't appreciate it though." Still looking at the ceiling the girl snorted. "Spencer likes to think she has it all, the career, the relationship, the amazing friends; but she doesn't. Not really." Brown eyes slid back to the detective. "Ashley needed to learn to miss a good thing when it's gone. Spencer needed to learn the world didn't revolve around her. And everyone else needed to learn that Chelsea Daniel's doesn't stand in the background."

She sat up properly and regarded the senior officer in the room. She tilted her head to the right and adopted a serious expression, her eyes flashed with mirth and a slow smile grew on her lips. Conspiratorially, she leant forward and whispered surprisingly loudly.

"Do you think everyone learnt their lesson?"

**September 27th, 2012. 08:12am. **

Spencer smiled broadly as her best friend ran up to her, from the building she was about to enter. Embracing one another, like they always had, Spencer felt a little more safe after her encounter with Aiden Dennison.

"God, am I glad you're here. Dennison was just here." She licked her bottom lip and saw the concern flash over the girls face. "I'm fine though, he just mouthed off that I was going to get mine and wandered off. Probably to find some woman, or steroids, or both. So, anyway, how are you?"

"Tired, I figured we could get a caffeine kick together." Chelsea smiled, her eyes pleading with the blonde. "Come one, you don't have to be in there yet. We can run over to Starbucks, grab a couple of Macciato's and be back before you know it."

"Hmm, you're tempting like the devil Daniel's." The other woman laughed but nodded anyway. "I wanted to talk to you, so it's come at a good time."

"About what?" Truth be told, as much as she resented Spencer, she was truly interested in the woman's life. It was like she lived vicariously through the other woman and it made the pain of being alone, and an outsider, a little easier to bear.

"Ashley." Spencer smiled shyly, like a lovestruck teenager would. Chelsea contained the sneer and snide remark and put on her best elated face.

"Did she finally pop the question?" The blonde laughed, loudly, at that statement and grasped at Chelsea's arm. Shaking her head, they crossed the busy road and started on the ten minute walk to the bustling Starbucks.

"No, no not yet." Blue eyes sparkled. "We're going away for a while, a long while. Just me and her." If she could, Spencer would have span around in a circle with her arms wide open, just like in the movies, to show her happiness.

"I thought you said you were too busy here for that."

"I know, and that's what I wanted to talk to you about." They stopped, right near the carpark Chelsea always used, and Spencer turned the girl to face her. "I'm quitting."

"You're what?"

No, this wasn't supposed to happen. If Spencer left, they'd beg her to stay, give her a promotion and where would Chelsea be then? An unknown photographer with an unknown writer? No. If Chelsea was going to make it, she'd have to show initiative and show how well she worked on her own. Spencer couldn't leave. How could she beat the blonde if the blonde wasn't there?

"Quitting, getting out of this business while I can." Spencer leant back on the wall slightly and regarded her friend. "I know I said I wanted this, but my relationship with Ash has been suffering and I'm not losing her to pretty words and celebrities. I can't."

"Come on, Spence. Don't talk silly."

"I'm not, I've been thinking about this for a while. God, we have enough money to tie us over until I find something else. Something I can do and be home in time to spend time with the woman I want to be with the rest of my life. I'm sick of leaving when she's asleep and coming home when she's getting ready for bed, I can't do it anymore." She shook her head, her long blonde waves bouncing with each movement she made. "Besides, I think I've made my mark there now. I'm good to go, don't you think?"

"I think you're giving up everything for somebody who doesn't appreciate you."

"What?"

Chelsea felt herself getting irrationally upset again. God, if Spencer did this then in a few months the paper would fire her. Who the fuck wanted Chelsea Daniels if she didn't come under the headline of Spencer Carlin? The girl who had everything was going to give it up and Chelsea would be left with nothing, as usual.

But if Spencer didn't quit...

If she just, you know, didn't turn up to work...

Chelsea would start being seen as the great employee..

And if she was seen to turn into work, when her world was crumbling, how good would that make her look? Then her parent's would notice her. Then she'd be the one people remembered.

"Looks like rain, wanna drive to Starbucks?"

"Yeah, no, what did you mean she doesn't appreciate me? Chelsea, I think I know my own girlfriend."

"I know, I'm sorry, I know. Just, please get into the car." The dark girl looked at her friend and saw the frown on her forehead. "Listen, I'm just being jealous. I don't want you to leave, but if that's what you want then I'll support you."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She looped her arm through Spencer's and strode to the car, quickly. Once inside, she took out a cloth from the back; a cloth soaked in turpentine. She hoped this would do the trick, it might not be as effective as chloroform but the same basic foundation was there. Spencer would breath in a toxic substance, the cloth would limit air but Chelsea could stop before the girl stopped breathing. All it would do is render Spencer ill for a few days, nothing deadly.

She slipped into the driver's seat and took a small glance at the happy smile on Spencer's face. She smiled too, but it quickly dropped from her face when she leant forward and slammed the cloth against the woman's nose and mouth.

She struggled, that was hard, but the carpark was deserted and Chelsea was athletic. Her hand had been scratched one more than one occasion and she felt a large bruise forming on her thigh where Spencer had landed a hard punch. It was over in a few minutes, the muffled screaming stopped and the incessant wriggling subsided.

And there she was.

Miss. Perfect, quiet and still.

Now all Chelsea had to do was get away with it.

Shouldn't be too hard.

**2nd October, 2012. 17:22pm**

Me and Spencer have never been that couple, you know?

We wouldn't wear each others clothes in bed, or feel some strange need to smell the other in some stalker fashion when they weren't around. We just were. Just natural.

A week ago that all changed.

This t-shirt? Spencer's.

These jeans? Mine, before Spencer took them.

This hoody? Spencer's.

I lie on Spencer's side of the bed, when I can catch a couple of minutes, and I wear her tank top.

I'm surrounded by her and I can't touch her. I can feel her everywhere but I can't see her. I'm perpetually hearing her voice, feeling her breath, craving that soft touch on my shoulder. That one she makes before turning me around, from the sink, from the computer, before kissing me senseless.

And it's killing me slowly.

I've been sent home, by the police, so I'm around her more than ever. She hates pictures, thinks she isn't photogenic, but with time to think without her pottering around clattering the dishes into cupboards (to make a point that I didn't do it) I can she is in more of the pictures than I am. Most are of me and her, but there's some candid ones of her that Chelsea did at the beach a few years ago. I was stood to the side while the two best friend's strode up to the waves, I laughed as Spencer's squealed when the waves touched her toes and she ran back to dry safety, I smiled as they talked about something private before my girl turned around and launched herself at me. She wrapped me up tight in her arms that day, the wind was wilder than usual and it made her hair fly around; it was adorable. The little frown on her forehead at being messy, the pout on her full lips when I laughed, the self-conscious crossing of her arms.

I slowly walk over and pick the picture up, looking into her eyes, tracing the faint smile on her face.

I'll find her.

Even if I have to beat it out of Chelsea fucking Daniels.

The thought makes me shudder and I'd have dropped the photo if I wasn't holding it so tightly. I'm shaking, I can feel it, but I can't register it.

It can't be her, right? Not after everything. She helped me. She loved Spencer. We were friends, we are friends.

They've never really had a falling out, not of massive proportions anyway. Sure, they had tiffs; that dress looked better in the closet, those were her earrings, why was Ashley camping outside their dorms?

The nice officer, Miss. Danes, she told me she'd ring me as soon as anything developed. Told me it was pointless me glaring at the door they had led Chelsea through and I should come home a rest, I laughed at that. Rest? Right. Because I've been sleeping so easily the past six nights. I suppose it's better I'm here, I can't make much of an impression whether I'm there or not.

If Chelsea did do this, and I'm starting to believe she must have, where the hell would she take her?

I shake my head and walk into the kitchen, opening a cupboard, I spy what I'm looking for a make a greedy grab for it. Above me I clutch at a glass and place it on the counter top, slowly uncorking the wine, I ponder over my thoughts; almost making myself dizzy. Expertly, from fun teenager years and a faux wine expert as a mother, I pour myself a generous glass of the red liquid and put the bottle next to it. Wrapping my fingers around the base of the glass, I pull it to my lips and swallow more than one gulp should truly allow. I smile wanly at the lipstick smudge on the glass and I swear I can hear Spencer's voice;

"Why is it you only wear lipstick when you drink from the *good* glasses?"

"Because I like to leave my mark for you, baby." I murmur, before swirling the liquid. I watch the ripples and gaze at it slowly creeping up the sides of the glass, leaving a faint pinkish trail behind it. I pick up the green bottle and top it up before pulling it to my mouth again.

**2nd October, 2012. 18:07pm **

"Chelsea, where's Spencer? Please. This is important, to me, to her family, to Ashley."

The interview was wearing down. It was wearing her down, them down, the chairs down. She'd been a little more responsive, not much, every step forward they made they ran a mile back as Chelsea spewed her jealousy for the blonde reporter. Jackson's back was sore, Jessica's eyes were heavy and tired; despite the fact she'd only joined the interview an hour earlier after convincing Ashley to go home. She hated the broken look in the woman's eyes, but hopefully, hopefully, somebody would get some sleep.

Chelsea sneered and looked to the side, so what if she'd been caught? How much more trouble could she get into if she didn't say where Spencer was?

"Miss. Daniels," Her lawyer whispered in her ear. She didn't want him but she'd been told that fighting her case without one would be pointless, plus he was cute and it passed the time nicely. "I'd suggest you co-operate with Detective. Jackson."

"Why?" She hissed and dragged her eyes over to Clay Wyatt. He was handsome, if a little too nice, she had the impression she could get her own way with him. That had been obvious when his dark eyes had skimmed her tattoo and even though he was smartly dressed and well spoken, he had to have his weaknesses.

"If you do, your sentence may be dramatically reduced. If the court see's you helped the police with their investigation, despite the hesitant start, they might take some leniency." She watched him and almost laughed at how serious he looked. He needed to loosen up a bit.

"What? They'll skip past the fact I kidnapped a woman and like me because I told them where she's hidden?" Her claws were out and the sarcasm cut deep into the room, she snapped her head to the side and looked at the two detective. "If they weren't so useless at their jobs, they'd have found her by now."

"A power trip might seem mighty great to you, but there's a girl out there just waiting to be found. She's loved, Chelsea. She's cared for and people miss her." Jessica wasn't one to hold back often, sometimes she did and other times; not so much. "Tears have spilled for that young woman. How many have been spilt for you?"

"Fuck you, what do you know?" Defense lines were drawn and Chelsea bristled instantly.

"Just because your parents threw you out and wanted nothing to do with a woman with no dreams, does not mean other parents are like yours." Miss. Danes voice didn't waver nor did it soften, despite the flicker of hurt across Chelsea's face. "Just because your life is messed up, doesn't give you the right to ruin other people's. It's not like you're even on one of those missions from God, your doing this because your selfish and your getting your kicks."

"Jessica stop." Her partner said softly, cringing at how rough the girl often got when frustrated.

"No, no I won't. There's a girl depending on us, trusting we'll find her and I'll be damned if I don't find her." Her steely eyes hit the girl again and she clenched her jaw. "Where is she, Lewis? I'm not asking again."

"That's nice to know."

"Miss. Daniel's, I assure you it will do no harm to talk to the police about this." Clay tried again.

"We need to find her safe and healthy, Chelsea." The eldest officer tried, his voice wasn't soft but nor was it harsh and demanding. It was just hard, telling her this wasn't a joking issue.

"Fine," The girl snapped, annoyed at all the people talking. She was starting to feel claustrophobic and images of her parent's arguing and Spencer and Ashley and friends clouded her mind. "Shut up, just let me think for a minute."

The room went silent and they waited with bated breath for the girls next words, hoping beyond hope they wouldn't be something about the past. Like it had been for the past four hours.

"I can't see how it'll do any harm now," Chelsea shrugged sagely and donned a pretty expression. "She's at the art shed, where I keep my supplies. Down by the beach, close to the docks, not exactly hidden either funnily enough. There's a room at the back, it's deserted, not used for anything."

Jackson stared at her hard, trying to work out whether the girl was being honest or sending them on a wild goose chase. In the end he nodded at the tall man in the corner and he left the room quickly, speaking to two other guards outside the room. Chelsea just saw their outlines leaving the hallway, rather hastily. She dragged her eyes back to the tired detective and ran her gaze over his features, he looked like her father. An older, more stressed, version anyway.

"Than -"

"I just hope you find her soon. She's getting pretty weak," Her eyes flashed and she leant forward, like she was about to share a secret. "And there's like, seven sheds down there. Each one you get wrong?" She started to breath heavily, "Each one you break into and don't find her, that's longer you're leaving her to suffer."


	9. Chapter 9

Jessica Danes watched the girl across from her closely, the dark haired woman never flinched and neither did the detective. Running her thumb over the back of her own fingers she ignored the craving she had for nicotine - she hadn't smoked in ten years, but suddenly she needed to feel the rush in her veins, she needed the calming effect that little white stick could offer - and tried to maintain her cool exterior.

But how was she supposed to? This woman, this - what? - excuse for a human being, could be partly responsible for the unlawful abduction of an innocent woman. And she didn't seem to even care.

"So, what's with the silent treatment?" Carmen ran a tongue over her dry lips and pulled the bottom one between her white teeth. "Is it the whole good cop bad cop thing? Cause, honey, I'm hardly feeling intimidated by a piece like you."

"Chelsea Daniels, you know her well?" The older woman, by a few years, tilted her head but her face didn't soften.

"Yeah, she's my boss, of course I do." Jessica internally smiled at the tense posture the girl had adopted. "Why?"

"So, as your boss, you'd see her everyday. Correct?"

"Not everyday, she has another job; the art thing is on the side for now." Her eyes rolled before closing slowly. "But I saw her a few times a week."

"So, on these times that you saw her, can you recall her being agitated at all?" Hardly, the detective thought, the woman's as cold as ice. "You know, like she had a secret?"

"No."

Carmen was holding something back, it was obvious, and her usual cocky and confident demeanour was now replaced by a quiet, shy one. Her arms were now folded across her chest protectively rather than obstinently.

"So you knew about what she'd done to Ms. Carlin? Seeing as it wasn't secret and all."

"I never said that."

"I did, answer it." Ms. Danes continued to stare down the woman and she saw a few memories pass across the dark eyes of the girl. "What's wrong? Did I hit a nerve?"

"No, I just -" She sighed, defeated.

"Carmen, we're prepared to offer a lesser sentence if you just give us the truth. Four years, chance of getting off early; all you need to do is tell us what you know." Reasoning seemed to work with this girl and the chance it would work now gave Jessica the balls to continue forward.

"Four years?"

"For unlawful abduction and perverting the course of justice by holding back evidence? I'm pretty sure that four years is pretty lenient." Jessica leant back on the uncomfortable chair.

"But - I can't, it's ha -" She sighed again and bit her lip, the rush of blood to the mark making it swell red.

"Let's start at the beginning."

--

Carmen sat straddling the artist stool and leant down to the table. Her expired credit card was perfect for cutting decent lines on the dirty table, not that it mattered that paint flecks were getting into cocaine; as long as it continued selling well.

She rolled her neck and ran her credit card through the white powder, before sliding it into the clear little plastic bag and shaking it out straight. For the first time in a long time she was happy that she lived in LA, this shit sold a lot faster and a lot easier than it did anywhere else she had lived. Then that cute girl came into her life, Jennifer or whatever, with her penthouse and her high profile job in advertising. She _almost _wanted to be better for her, _almost _wanted to change for the girl with the soft voice and cute nose; but then Jennifer (or whatever) found out that she knew Chelsea who knew Spencer, who knew Ashley, and the questions rolled in.

'What's Ashley up to these days?'

'Are her and Spencer together?'

'Do you hang out with them? We should invite them to dinner one night. Catch up.'

So Carmen, always wanting to please, talked a little bit more to Spencer and at some point over the few months she wanted to talk to Spencer more and more. But all Spencer wanted to talk about was Ashley. She'd never even met the bitch but all she ever heard about was Ashley fucking Davies.

So to cut the shit down a little, she got rid of Jennifer and kept the penthouse. Left her crying on the doorstep with the parting words of 'ask Ashley for a room.' It wasn't her favourite moment in her life, but honestly, it was one of the worst either.

Shaking her head with a smile she placed a few more lines of the powder into bags and put them to the side. She wasn't one to be jealous really, it was just Spencer was hot and she hadn't got any in a while.

The door banged open with a start and Carmen jumped a mile, knocking at least a quart from the table and her eyes flashed a wicked anger before they looked up to the cause of the noise.

"Fucking hell Chelsea. Do you how much money you've just lost me?" Desperately she scraped some remaining cocaine into a very small pile and scowled at the measly amount there. She contemplated it for a second, before shrugging and putting it into a small bag with whatever else was on the table. Someone was bound to snort it and think they're high.

"I'll give it you back, with interest, but I need your help." The ice cold twist in Chelsea's voice made Carmen look up and frown in concern. She'd never seen her boss this cool but nervous all at once.

"What's wrong?" She asked, standing up slowly and throwing the last packet onto the small pile. "How can I help?"

"You any good at lifting?" Chelsea smiled before standing sideways, letting Carmen walk past her.

--

"So why didn't you say no? From what I can gather you liked Spencer. If you'd see her hurt, I'm assuming you'd help her; from what you've told me the grudge you had was for Ashley - not Spencer." Jessica looked at the girl, who seemed to have aged ten years and watched as small tears gathered in the corners of the dark eyes.

"Because, fuck, she said she'd blow the cover on just how I was paying for the penthouse on an apprentice's wage. Said it'd be a druggies statement against hers, told me I couldn't stand a chance." She paused and let out a deep breathe. "I can't go to jail, I can't."

"So, you've known about this from the start? That Chelsea had taken Ms. Carlin."

Carmen nodded, hot tears fell over her eyelids and she closed them tight trying to keep them at bay. She kept her head down, opening her eyes to see only a blurry table and an even blurrier world. She'd gotten in too deep, said yes to the wrong people and no to the right situations. Her eyes closed again when she heard Jessica whisper; 'okay.'

"Carmen Bridget Canizares, I'm arresting you -"

Her world slowly fell more out of focus.

--

Jackson Harper watched the shadows on the ceiling merge and form exotic shapes across and down the walls. He'd placed Chelsea under arrest and had shivered at the smile she'd shot him as she'd calmly walked out of the door. The case was simple, they didn't need a jury if she continued with the guilty plea so all that had been covered; but now it was just finding the poor girl who'd been unfortunate enough to fall into Chelsea's mind games.

He closed his eyes and was startled by the image of Ashley Davies in his mind.

Sitting up straight he grabbed his phone and dialed a number so similar now that he knew it blindfolded. It rang once, like it always did, and Ashley answered frantically. Jackson often thought the girl sat next to her phone just waiting.

"Yeah, what do you know?"

"Ashley, we have some information for you." He kept his voice calm, like he'd be trained to, before breaking news.

"Have you found her?" He could hear the fatigue in her voice but the hope tore through it all.

"I need you to stay calm, okay?"

"Have you found her, Goddammit."

"Yes." He breathed out. "Ashley, we've placed Chelsea under arrest and she's given us some idea of where Spencer could be. Now I need you to listen to me, okay?"

Silence.

"Ashley?"

--

The burning sun was slowly casting the world into darkness as it fell behind the crashing sea. My lungs are burning from the practical two miles I've just ran, my bare feet are sinking into the wet sand and I can't see; the salt air and the harsh tears blocking my view. But I can hear the sirens, I can hear the shouts, I can hear the frantic calls of my girls' name. I'll get to them. I've never had to see to know where she is, not until now; because I'm just as lost as she is.

"Keep her back!" I feel strong hands on my arms but I pull out of them, desperate, dying, to get to where she is. How could she have been this close all along and I've never even known? The fucking lighthouse I went to on that first day is five minutes north of here. How the hell did I miss her? How did I not know?

"Spencer!" I scream, my lungs crying out in protest at the lack of air I'm letting them feed on, and I force myself to continue forward. I'm stumbling over the stupid sand and my fingers are brushing the floor with every fall I make; but I'm not stopping, I can't.

I got a call a few hours back, Detective Jackson, he told me they'd had a confession, admitted that they now had an idea where she was. The phone was on the floor before I could have even thought of hearing the whereabouts, I just ran. I didn't know where I was going, but I just ran and then I heard the sirens.

"Miss, miss please stop." Two hard arms wrapped around my mid-section and I was practically lifted from the floor to stop running. I cry out, digging my nails into the large arm in front of me.

I have to get to her.

"Spencer!"

The flashing lights run across my face and I hear the crackle of the radio attached to the man behind me and I almost die from relief, all the air escapes my body in one large breath and I cry final tears.

_"There's someone in here, it's her. Sir, it's her."_

Oh God.

Spencer.

--

My eyes open slowly before I close them again. It's bright, brighter than I've known it to be for a long time and I can hear every little noise. The beeping of a machine. The slap of a clipboard hitting the floor. The low noise of a strangled sob next to my head.

The longer I keep my eyes closed the more I keep spinning and I can feel my stomach churn over and over again. The sobbing gets louder, more frequent and I want to help her, I want to save her, but I can't move; it hurts too much. But I know who it is, I can tell by the way she breathes and the way she smells and the way her fingers are slowly tightening around mine.

I know her, better than I even know myself.

"Please..." Her husky voice breaks and with it, my heart does too. "Please, Spencer, open your eyes again baby. Let me see you." She makes it sound like that sentence was drawn from her last breath.

I feel her forehead hit mine and hot tears spill onto my face, but I don't flinch, because I feel comfort in how safe she feels around me. I just wish I could tell her I'm okay, not perfect, but I'm good enough. I want to tell her I love her. I want to tell her how safe she's making me feel, just by wishing she could see me.

"Spencer please."

I shiver when she pulls back and I hear her sit back down. With what strength I have, more than I know, I open my eyes and move them to her form. If I could gasp, if I could move, I would. She looks wrong, still as beautiful as ever, but she isn't the woman I left that morning that I - that it happened. She's thinner and she wasn't all that large to begin with, I can see her cheekbones and the dark circles around her eyes show just how pale she's become.

She gasps, loudly and I watch as her eyes fill up once more and the tears fall onto her sharp cheeks. She shakes her head, one shaky hand covering her mouth, before that oh-so familiar sob escapes her lips. She's repeating 'oh God' over and over again, her breaths are sharp and uneven; but above all that, through all the smudged mascara and tired looking eyes, I can see just how much she loves me.

"Baby," she whispers, almost like a question, and I watch her scoot forward in the chair. "Oh God, Spencer...God."

She raises her hand to cup my cheek, her own little move, but I flinch away; a scared expression washing over my face and I see her eyes widen.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Spence."

I _know _she won't hurt me. But I can see another hand coming towards my face. I see another situation where I felt safe and I felt nothing could hurt me. Unconsciously, I move my body away from my brunette and I watch confusion and fear swamp her features.

"Baby, I love you." She moves forward and clamps one of my hands between two of her shaking ones. "I love you."

As much as I want to tell her that I love her too, that I love her more than she can even comprehend, I can't help screaming inside. I can't help but seeing reds and blacks and greens and blues as memories flashed in front of my eyes and I struggled against the arms of...of...

Who?

I can see a car, I can see a hand, but I can't see a person and that just frustrates me. But I'm here, not in that room, I'm here and I'm safe and they must know who it is because Ashley wouldn't be holding my bloodied hand and Ashley wouldn't be real.

But I still move away.

And I still know it's all changed.


	10. Chapter 10

**14th November, 2012. 12:17pm **

"Ashley, baby can you move your feet for me please?" I watch as my blonde pushes the broom underneath the table my feet are resting on and move away the non-existent lint there.

She's constantly busy, cleaning, cooking, re-organising our CD collection and alphabetising our DVD rack, these days. I watch her do the same thing everyday, the same thing at every time, the same movements. It's been the same routine for over a month.

I move my feet from the coffee table and move away so she can brush the minimal amount of dirt to the side and then quickly wipe down the already polished surface. She's murmuring something under her breath about how she can't understand how people can live in filth, how she can't understand why something so simple as cleaning as you go can be so easily ignored. She blows a strand of hair out of her eyes and wipes the table harder, buffing it to within an inch of it's life.

"Why don't you sit down for a while, Spencer? The apartment looks nice." I say softly, nervous because I know how sensitive she can be these days. Doctors say it's some side effect of PTSD and is to be expected for a while; they said I shouldn't worry. But I do. Constantly.

"I can't sit right now, Ash. I still have to clean the windows and have you seen the ironing that needs doing? I should get it done now or I won't have time later, I don't want to do it tomorrow." She sounds irritated and I don't know if it's with me, or something else. She smiles a little and I don't think she's about to slam any doors any time soon; I won't be sleeping on the couch. It only happened once, to be honest, and I couldn't sleep. Neither could she. It had turned two in the morning when she shuffled in, adorable as always, and tugged at my hand to make me come back to the bedroom.

"I can help if you like?"

"No, don't be silly." She smiles again cutely and pats my shoulder. "I don't mind doing it all, it keeps me busy."

I blink once and try to bite back the comment that I can feel rising inside me. Because, damn it, I love her so much and I don't want to hurt her. She's been through enough already and she doesn't need me on her back. She just, she needs to face the truth.

"You're only keeping busy so you can avoid talking about..." I lick my lips, letting the comment hang between us, and wait for some scathing reply. When nothing comes I look up, finding her blue eyes staring at something outside of our window.

"No."

"Spencer..."

"No, Ashley. If you can't even say it and I don't want to talk about it, what's the use? It won't change anything. It's going to change nothing..." She sounds so depressed, so lost. And I can't help, why can't I help?

"Baby, I just think we need to -"

I'm cut off when she shakes her head and walks out of the living room without even a word, without a sound. I watch her go and close my eyes when the door leading to our bedroom clicks gently shut. Biting my lip I internally debate whether or not I should follow her. In the end I get up and make my way to the bedroom, knowing I would have done it anyway; because I can't let her cut me off now, I can't be pushed away after everything.

Opening the door I see her sat on the edge of the bed, shes kicking her feet and it's making a rhythmic noise on the bottom of the bed. Her eyes are downcast, looking at our carpeted floor; her fingers are picking at the comforter and she's pulling a long thread out, wrapping it around her finger.

"Spencer." I whisper her name, not wanting to startle her, or force her into leaving the room again. She nods once, letting me know she's heard me and I want to sigh in utter defeat when I hear her voice.

"She was my best friend, Ashley. Chelsea was my best friend and she did this to me." Her voice is croaky and I know that she's going to cry, but not because she's cried in front of me recently; that hasn't happened in a long time, but because I know all of her voices.

My stomach tightens painfully when she grips harder on the bed, her fingers turning white and I can the scar on her wrist. I let my eyes trail over her, she's gained weight since coming home like the hollow shell she was, but she's not back to her usual self. I've seen her in the bathroom, when she thinks she alone, on her tip-toes; looking in our mirror. I hear her silent sobs and my heart breaks each time her tears fall onto the counter top, because I know even if I walked in and called her beautiful she'd cover up and close me off.

She hates that she can still see her ribs, protruding out against her fragile skin.

She hates that she has all these little scars on her from where her flesh tore against the concrete floor.

She hates that I want to see them.

Because, fuck, I've hardly even hugged her since then. And don't get me wrong, I don't want to push her into anything; I know she gets scared if she feels out of control. But I need to touch her, need her to know I love her and she is wanted. I want her to know that she's not worthless, that she's worth anything...everything. I don't want to feel like this, I don't want to feel like I'm going crazy without her caress or her lips softly upon mine .

"I know, baby."

"No you don't!" Her head shoots up and I jump a little, my heart-rate picking up instantly out of protection for her and fear for her. For us. "Ashley, you don't know anything."

I'm stunned into silence and take a few more steps into the bright room, making sure to close to door behind me so it can just be us. Because I know for a fact her mother and her brothers and her father have a habit of coming in, of checking on us. I try to tell them, I can take care of her, I can look after her. Then they smile, tell me they know, but their eyes betray them and tell me that actually no, I can't look after her because I can't look after myself.

She glares at me for a moment, so I stop making my way towards her and wait for her to continue. For once, I'm not worried for her, but I'm worried for us; for me and her. Because she's never looked this lost, this vulnerable and angry all at once.

And it kills me I can't make it go away.

"She tied me up, Ash." I swallow hard, because she hasn't told me what happened to her yet. I don't know if I want to know. She can see it on my face and hesitates before continuing, but I let her know with a small nod that she needs to, we need to. "She tied me up in a room, on my own. I was alone and I was scared, bleeding...I was..." She stops and I hear the lump in her throat shift, causing tears to spring into her eyes. Those eyes that haven't been the same blue in a long, long time.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there..."

"No, Ashley, don't apologise. Don't feel bad, don't make this about you. Because I can't tell you it's alright, okay? I can't make you feel better about this."

"I didn't try to make th - " I'm shaking a little, "Spencer, I didn't mean it like that. What can I do for you? How can I help, baby?" I move more towards her and don't hesitate in kneeling in front of her, trying my hardest to ignore the flinch in her body. But how can I? The woman I love, the woman who loves me, doesn't even want my touch.

"Fix me," It's through a sob I hear those two words and it just sets me off, because I can't be strong anymore. I can't be that person when I don't know how to be. "Make me better. Make the dreams stop, Ashley." Her hands fly out and fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me close enough so I can feel her breathe but just an inch too far away. I gasp, half relieved, half shocked, but nonetheless I close my eyes for a moment and take it all in.

"I will," I nod, my voice but a whisper. "I will."

"You can't!" She cries, scaring me. "How can you?"

I watch hopelessly as tears roll down her cheeks, one right after the other. I want to stop it, I want to make her better and see her smile in her eyes again. Because she's so beautiful when she smiles, just so beautiful.

"I will, I'll make you better; I swear." I kiss her gently, revelling in it because our kisses are rare now. "Spencer, I'll stay awake at night so you're not alone. I'll spend the rest of my life picking up all those little pieces you think you've dropped and I'll replace them, okay? I will." Because if there's anything I'm certain of in this world, other than how much I love her, is how much I'll look after her. "I don't care how long it takes, Spencer, I love you."

"How can you -" She closes her eyes and I miss them instantly. "How can you love me when I'm like this?"

"Like what?"

"Broken!" She all but screams at me, pushing me back a little so we're not as close anymore. She breathes deeply and shakes her head, like I should understand. "Fucking hell Ashley, I'm not the Spencer you fell in love with am I? I've changed. I'm constantly angry at you, angry at myself, I can't have a conversation without instantly flashing back to that room! I'm a clean freak, I keep busy so I don't stop and think. I'm only at work when I want to be, I take anti-depressants that don't do a fucking thing and I can't even, I've lost sight of why you would even care anymore." She pauses and narrows her eyes a little, concentrating on something in her mind.

"I don't...I."

"I haven't touched you in over a month, Ash. And if I'm being honest, truly honest with myself, I don't know when we'll ever be able to. And don't tell me that doesn't matter, don't tell me you don't need it; because then I'll assume you don't need me. I can't kiss you without feeling vulnerable anymore but I don't want you out of my sight. I hate when you leave a room, because I'm alone, but I'm constantly feeling smothered when you're around me." She's started crying again and it's painful, so painful, for me to hear these things. I don't want it to be, but fuck, I'm only human.

"Spencer...Please."

"I'm not me anymore. I don't think I ever will be again and I don't want you to have to get used to it -"

"Shut up."

"Because you deserve so much, Ash." She licks her lips, not even sounding like she's heard my plea, and attempts a smile at me, a shaky one, a lost one. "You don't deserve something broken. You deserve, God, everything. Look at you, baby. Look what I've done to you." She points out the bags under my eyes, the weight I've lost, the loss of sparkle in my smile. "How can you love someone who breaks you too? You shouldn't be with them."

"Yes I should!" I cry out, because this isn't how it's supposed to go. She's supposed to get better and we're supposed to get married and have babies and a house on the beach. We're supposed to relive her horrible ordeal and then overcome her demons, holding each other. We're supposed to get stronger from this. Not lose it all now, not now.

"No."

"I deserve you, Spencer." I sob, needing her to hear my pain, hear just what this is doing to me. And that might be selfish of me, childish even; but she can't go. I've lost her twice before and it all but killed me. But I'm not losing her now, not again. If I did, it would destroy me.

"How can you say that? You're worth everything."

"You are everything!" And now I'm shouting, begging her to hear me. "Fuck, Spencer, I went through most of our relationship thinking how could I possibly deserve someone like you. I watched all these girls flirt with you and I'd wonder, I'd wonder if that was the night you were finally going to leave the girl who slept around for fun. And I'd understand if you would've done that, Spence. I would have. Because, look at you, you're so amazing and special. You're heart is so big and open and you're beautiful, you know? Inside and out. You're smart and funny and the world's worst cook," She smiles a little at that and I feel my heart repair, just a fraction. "You're sweet and caring and you have the most gorgeous eyes I've ever had the chance to see."

"Not anymore..." She murmurs, not flinching away when I grasp her hands, but not holding on just as tight either.

"Don't you understand? I can't fall out of love with you, I just can't. Because even when you're cooking me burnt lasagna and even when you roll away from me in the night, you're my everything." I shrug and move closer still, so my knees touch the bed she's sitting on. And I don't care that they hurt and I don't care that my back shouldn't bend this way just to look at her; because this is the closest I've been to her in a long time and I need this.

"It wasn't burnt; you distracted me." She whispers through a smile. I smile back before turning serious again, knowing she needs fixing before we can fix us.

"You've been through so much, Spencer, so much. And I can't even understand, I can't even begin to know what you felt, but I can help. I will help. We'll go away, okay? We'll get away from LA and all of this shit. Me and you, yeah?"

She nods a little and I'm starting to feel a little better now; because now I might not lose her, I might not have to watch her go.

I'll fix her.

I'll make her better.

---

**1st November, 2012. 10:35pm **

"Daniels," A guard shouted through to the young girl who was busy reading. "You have a visitor." He stared at her, wondering how the hell a young girl, such a sweet looking one at that, could have done everything that her file suggested. He hadn't been a prison officer long, only a few years, but he'd already seen many women come and go. But not too many matched up to the cool exterior Chelsea Daniels gave out. She didn't seem fazed at anything.

Walking towards him, Chelsea went about the usual procedure, her hands outright in front of her as the male cuffed her. She winced a little but he showed no empathy, instead he simply gave her a small nod in the direction she was to walk and she obeyed.

"Five minutes." He told her, opening the door to the visiting area. While everyone else had family members or partners to visit them, Chelsea was alone; so for the first time in a long time she felt vunerable as she stumbled into a room full of people who hated her and their strangers.

She smirked a little, already having guessed who her visitor was, and loved that she was right.

"Ashley," She drawled, slowly sitting down in the uncomfortable chair. She pulled a little at the cuffs and enjoyed for a brief moment the stinging pain that came along with it. "How nice of you to come and see me. I don't get many visitors."

"She knows you did it." The brunette spat at her, disgust flaring in her eyes. "We all know it was you."

"What do you want, Sherlock? A medal." With her restrained hands, she pretended to pat down her legs. "Sorry. Fresh out." She leant back a little in her seat and ignored the eye-rolls around her. She wasn't well liked out of prison, so what did it matter she was hated inside it too?

"Why did you do it?" Ashley ignored the snide remarks of the older girl, instead just wanting to hear everything else. Spencer was sleeping, still, after a restless night and Ashley, hyped up on angry energy, booked an appointment with the prison the same day.

"Give out all my medals or..."

"Take her from me!" If it hadn't been for the glass in front of them, both girls were pretty sure Ashley would have lunged for the dark woman.

"I didn't take her from you." Chelsea replied slowly, loving how worked up the woman was getting, and she crossed her ankles. "I just, got her out of my life." She sucked on her teeth for a moment before reconsidering her last statement. "No, sorry, I made my life that much better."

"Yeah, looks it."

"You know what, Ashley, you think you're everything. You're just like her. Well, fuck you, okay? Spencer isn't the fucking pretty girl she makes out to be. She cheats and she lies." A dark look crossed her face and she smirked. "At least, that's what Carmen told me."

"What?"

"You know, you used to always go on about how Spencer was the one for you. But were you the one for her? I mean, do you honestly believe she was thinking of you when Carmen was putting her hands all over her?"

Using her knowledge of how forward Carmen's flirting could be, Chelsea started her mind games on the vunerable brunette. She wasn't lying when she said Carmen was all over the blonde, it happened most days, but only she knew Spencer pushed her away.

"You're lying."

"Believe what you want. But Ashley, I could have done you a massive favour getting rid of her. I mean, do you really want someone like that in your life? Someone so toxic?" She licked her lips and watched the cogs turn.

"This was a waste of my time." Ashley stood up, knowing Chelsea was just trying to get under her skin. But it was too soon after having Spencer home to hear such things.

"She's a waste of yours." Chelsea grinned and scooted her chair back a little. "Get rid of her. Or, you know, wait twenty years or so and I'll do it for you again."

This time the glass barrier didn't seem to faze Ashley as she slammed up against it, scaring Chelsea and gaining several people's attention. The brunette could feel a guard behind her but she kept her eyes trained on the dark girl.

"If you come near Spencer again, if you say anything about her, think about her - I swear to God, no, I promise you now; I will fucking kill you." Her voice was a low growl and she felt herself being tugged back, but she grabbed the table; keeping herself close to Chelsea. "I will come in here and I will destroy you, do you understand me? Hurting her, taking her from me, you've only opened the door. I swear, if you even look near her I won't rest until I see you six feet under."

"Cute Rambo, but you don't scare me." The waver in her voice suggested different.

"This isn't to scare you, Chelsea. It's a promise, a vow. So listen closely, because I don't intend on breaking this; stay away from her, from me. Rot in hell for all I care, okay?"

With one final tug, Ashley was pulled away and escorted to the exit doors. Chelsea raised her chin and watched the young girl go, not blinking until their silhouettes were safely outside the door and she could no longer hear their voices. She looked around, seeing the amused smiles on her fellow inmates faces and she swallowed hard.

Ashley would pay for that.

---

**23rd December, 2012. 17:05pm.**

I watch her as she sits in my childhood garden, catching the snowflakes on her tongue with my four year old cousin. She looks adorable, running through the snow and laughing loudly when the small girls hits her with a well aimed snowball. Her curls are bouncing beneath the beanie hat she just had to buy and that smile, her smile, is so genuine that it gives me hope.

Hope I'll get better.

Hope we'll be doing this again next Christmas.

"Spencer? Would Ashley like some hot chocolate?" I turn around and look at my mom. I've done this to them, aged them. I didn't mean to but they worry so much. If I could have just told them I was okay, they would have been alright.

"Yeah, she hasn't tasted it yet."

We decided to spend Christmas here in Ohio, together as a couple. My grandparents weren't too supportive at first but they've come around, they invited us before they even invited my parents. I think after everything we've been through, I've been through, something as fickle as sexuality dosen't seem to matter.

"And you, would you like some?" She teases, knowing I never say no to my Grandmothers cocoa.

"Obviously. And I want it in my cup, not Glens." I faux-frown, remember when I was thirteen and Glen was ill. He got my slightly larger up and I was stuck with his Superman one. I didn't talk to anyone for three days.

"I know." She kisses the top of my head and squeezes me tight. "I love you, honey." She whispers, before kissing my crown again and making her way back into the kitchen.

I watch her go, smiling a little, knowing I might have not had this. I sigh, not wanting to go there. My counceller says it's good to relive, but not on my own, that could be dangerous. But I'm doing better now.

Me and Ash went on holiday and I told her everything there, everything I went through. She cried and I cried and then we moved forward with our lives.

"Clare, c'mon in now honey." I hear my aunt shout out the window. "It's nearly time for dinner."

The matching pouts of my brunette girlfriend and my red-headed cousin are just too adorable to bear. For a Californian native, Ashley sure has taken well to this Ohian winter. Of course, she does have four layers on under that designer leather jacket. Together they trudge towards the backdoor, muttering about how they've only just gotten to go outside. And it makes me wonder, as Ashley helps remove Clare's coat, how she would be with our children.

You know, in the future.

Because, even though it's been so long, we're still not that close yet.

I'm getting better now, I let her hold me at night and we kiss. But I still don't like the idea of not being in control, of letting someone else take me over and let me let go. And she's so patient with it, so caring and sweet.

But I can see in her eyes, when we're both topless and panting into each others mouths, the dissapointment when I pull away. But she just smiles, kisses me lightly and pulls me close to her to let me know it's okay and that she'll wait.

"I can't believe you grew up here, Spence!" My girl gasps, taking off her beanie and shaking her curls. "How did you not have permenant frostbite?"

"It's not that cold." I assure her, removing one of her many jackets for her.

"Warm me up?" She smiles, opening her arms and waiting for my inevitable reply. I scoot forward and let her wrap me up, even though I should be keeping her warm, throwing my arms around her neck and pulling me close.

"Better?" I ask, kissing the soft skin on her neck. I hear a small gasp, probably because we're in full view of the family room, and notice the smile in her voice.

"Very much so."

I pull back and look at her, just really look at her. Like how she looks healthier these days, more happy and content with our lives. But I can still see the worry clouding over her when I'm quiet and in a way thats a good thing, cause I know that she knows I'll never be over it

.

And I won't.

But I can move on, we can move on and just be together. Without all those bad dreams and all those screams I hear in the night. Without the fear that when she holds me from behind that I'm about to pass out and wake up in a strange place.

"I love you." She whispers, her eyes still as beautiful as ever.

"I love you." I reply, meaning it more than I ever have.

And I just look at her.


	11. Chapter 11

**18th February, 2013. 19:34pm**

She's sitting between my legs, watching the film on our television, quietly chewing on her bottom lip as the scenes get heavier. She doesn't usually like these types of films, films where people are stalked by some crazy killer; they've never been her type.

She's been watching more of them recently though, really getting into them and the characters that evolve within the plot. We're watching Seven tonight and she's frowning as it comes to an end, as "John Doe" explains his actions to Detective Mills and Somerset.

"See, what I don't understand is they all say it was God's work, God made them do it, God chose them." Spencer whispers, turning her head so she's not looking at the television anymore. "Who is God to tell us what to do, how to act? What happened to free will?"

"Some people really believe that's what they were put on this Earth for, to listen to his words." I tell her, my lips moving against her silky hair. "The rest of us know that isn't true."

"Do you think all people commit horrible crimes in the name of their Lord?" She asks. Her cheek is resting against my chest and I feel her jaw moving faintly as she speaks. I curse internally at her question, hating that it's taken me this long for me to realise just why she's been watching crime films.

"Not all." I reach gently around her and switch the television off, dropping the remote to the floor and wrapping my arms around her waist. She just nods and goes quiet again, putting her hands on top of mine and trying to cuddle herself into my body, trying to get closer.

She's still looking at the wall, still focusing on nothing, when she abruptly gets out of my arms and makes her way into the kitchen. She gets like this sometimes, quiet and reclusive. I worry for her sometimes, worry that when I go to work just how much is she eating and drinking and sleeping. I've seen her sit on the couch, back straight, head in hands, staring at the floor as the hours go by. Not moving, not talking, only just breathing.

"I think we should have a family dinner here." She tells me, referring to the weekly dinners we have to attend with her parents and brother. "We always go to my parents, they should come here." I know what she's doing, she's distracting me from the fact she's pulling away.

"If that's what you want."

"It'd be a nice change, you know?"

She's nodding to herself, like it's a brilliant idea, and starts getting to work on a drink. I stand up slowly and make my way into the kitchen, pausing briefly in the doorway to just watch her. She's gained her weight back and our long walks have given her skin her colour back; she looks beautiful. She's growing too, getting stronger, bolder.

It's nice.

She's getting back to the Spencer I know and love, the Spencer who loves me. She argues with me now, over mundane things, rather than nodding and letting me have my way like she would two months ago. She's more confident too. It may sound ridiculous and stupid, but she changes in the bedroom now after her showers. She doesn't mind it if I run in unannounced, for some unnecessary item, whilst she is changing.

She kisses me first.

"Spencer?"

She turns to me with a soft hum, her eyes lighting up when they see me again and I love that I do that to her. I love that she too falls in love again with each glance.

"Tell me."

A cute, confused smile works it way along her lips and spreads onto her face. She tilts her head in that adorable manner and I hate that I know it's all just a cover. I hate that I know she's avoiding the issue.

"Tell you what?" She asks gently, taking a step towards me. "What do you want to know?"

"What aren't you telling me?" She frowns and after some silence, I try again. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Wrong?" She shakes her head and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "No, Ash you're wonderful. Why, have you done something wrong that I don't know about?" She laughs like this isn't breaking my heart.

"No." I whisper.

"Ashley…"

"Please Spencer, you asked me to fix you. You asked me to look after you. How can I do that when I don't even know wh –"

"I want to see Chelsea."

With that she cuts my impassioned speech off right before I could get going, right before I could even try and beg her to talk to me. Because it's there, she spoke to me but I don't think I want to hear it.

She knows I've been to see her, she knows I lost it a little and she knows I never want to go back to that place again.

"I think it'll help me," She tells me slowly, like she's speaking to a child. "Maybe, you know, maybe it will help us."

"We don't need helping, Spence." I tell her boldly, maybe a little naively. "We're fine, aren't we?"

We really are.

She tells me things now; about those horrific days, about what she felt and how scared she got.

And we're passionate again, we make love and it's beautiful.

God, it's getting better.

"We are, yes." And I believe her, how could I not when she's looking at me like that. "But I need to do this, Ash. I need to face her. And then I truly think I can move on, we can move on."

"I don't want you near her, Spence. I can't…" I trail off; feeling pathetic for denying her the one thing that she thinks will save her.

"You really think I want to be in a room with her, Ashley? I don't. I really don't. But I think I have to at least try, I owe myself that."

I look at her and wonder just how long her mind has been made up, before I nod slowly and grasp at her hands.

"I want to go with you."

"Maybe it's best if I do it alone." She tells me warily.

I shake my head, because there is no way any decent girlfriend would let that happen. How could I live with myself if I was sat outside while Chelsea broke her down, hit her where it hurts? I'd never be able to look at her, or myself, again.

I still can't, sometimes.

At night, when Spencer is asleep and I'm too awake to even think– I watch her. And then I wonder how I could ever have let her out of my sights. How could I just let her leave that morning and not given her a chance to come back? I should have known something was wrong with Chelsea. There would have been signs, there had to have been, so why couldn't I see them? What use am I to this woman, this amazing woman, if I can't protect her or save her when she needs me the most?

So no, no she can't go and see her again alone.

"I need to face my fears, baby, and you need to let me do that." She puts her hands on my cheeks. "I thought about you everyday."

"What?"

She looks into my eyes, passion burning bright.

"When I felt like I couldn't breathe, I thought of you and everytime I did, everytime I pictured you, your lips, your eyes, your voice– it saved me. It stopped me from giving up, you saved me."

"No I didn't," I shake my head.

"_You _saved _me._" She hisses, pulling me closer to her body. "You and only you, Ashley. I knew you'd find me –"

"But I didn't."

"But you were there. When I woke up, you were there. When I was lost, you were there. When I thought about giving all this up, giving you up, you were there. You saved me each and every time, Ash, and don't you dare think any different." She kisses me so lightly, so tenderly, that I'm shocked at it's force.

She squeezes my hands before releasing them so she can wrap herself around my body and I let my head rest in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent I know will always be with me.

"Only this time, I need to save myself. I need to do this myself, okay?"

"Okay…"

I mutter as a response, feeling myself relax further into her embrace.

"…But I'm waiting outside."

She chuckles at my stubborn tone and nods, kissing my temple before moving away and finishing the drink I distracted her from.

**22nd October, 2012. 13:57pm **

"Ash," Paula looked up from the mixing bowl filled with chocolate sauce and turned to her daughter's girlfriend. "How are you?"

Curls bounced as the young woman nodded, continuing her task of finding the marshmallows that Spencer _needed. _Routing in the top cupboard she tried to ignore the stinging sensation behind her eyes at the elder womans comforting tone, because fuck, why was she upset over a question?

But she knew.

Most children could lose count how many times their parents asked how they were. Not Ashley. And that fact, the nauseating feeling that her own mother hadn't been in contact after everything, hit her hard. Winded her. Wounded her.

A soft hand on her shoulder stopped her search and she let out a shuddering breath.

"I'm not Spencer, Ashley." The eldest Carlin whispered, "You don't have to be brave around me. It's okay."

Feeling the itch of a tear on her cheek, the brunette swiped at it hurridly, before quickly learning that she was fighting a losing battle. When had she started crying? Turning around, she felt herself wrapped in the comforting arms of the only person she knew of as a mom.

"It's okay, Ashley." Paula cooed over quiet sobs, her own throat closing at the younger girls agony.

"I just - I couldn't help her before." Clinging tighter to the blue sweater the woman wore, Ashley took a breath. "She was so close, Paula. So close."

"I know." Walking them backwards in a way only a mother knew how, Paula sat down at the table with the sad girl. "Sweetheart, you're here now and that's all that counts."

"What if it's...What if it's not enough, Paula?" The broken tone in her voice scared Ashley, it scared her that she wasn't as strong as she thought she was.

"How do you mean?" Picking a tissue from the box on the table, Paula dabbed at the smudged mascara around the girls eyes. A gesture that only served to make Ashley more upset, her eyes scrunching together tightly.

"She flinches around me," The girl whispered, shaking her head. "She's scared and I can't stop it, I can't stop what's in her mind."

"You're not alone in this, you know? We're all here."

"But I'm supposed to love her."

"You do love her, Ashley, we all see that. Time is key here, she's still your Spencer."

"Paula?" The cracked name caused the woman to look up into wounded eyes. "Tell me you think I can look after her. Tell me you trust me."

"Ashley," Paula sighed softly and almost laughed at how niave this poor girl was, how blinded she was to just how perfect she was for her girl.

"Please and don't lie, tell me I can save her."

She just needed that reassurance from someone older, that guidence she so desperately wanted since she was a child.

"I've given you on of the most precious things in my life, honey. I've given you my baby girl, my daughter. I know in my heart that you'll care for her and love her. Otherwise I'd have had you out on the street years ago," Together they laughed at Paula's faux-angry look.

"I just want her to be happy, safe."

"She's happiest when she's with you. I remember once, you'd had that fight and you'd walked out in the middle of dinner. She was so angry, she didn't even follow you; remember?" Ashley nodded, not really liking Paula's example of their love.

"Yeah."

"Then she spent the night. Ashley, for two hours she stared at that phone until you rang to say you were safe and you were sorry. And then you fought again, and she put the phone down on you; but do you know what? She was at her happiest when you were talking for those five minutes than she ever had been that day."

"I don't like making her mad."

"But you do and that's the joy of it all, sweetheart." She grasped the tanned girls hand in hers, despite the confused look. "You make each other mad, you make each other laugh, dance, cry, shout - it's love, it's what makes you human. God, me and Arthur have a weekly argument. It's what keeps me young."

For the first time that night, Ashley smiled.

"You look fine, Mrs C." She winked and stood up, done with the emotions and feelings and all the things she didn't do. "In fact, they do say look to the mother to see what the daughter will turn out to be like..." Grabbing at a bag of marshmallows, which had been on the side all along, Ashley started walking backwards out of the room.

Watching her go, Paula smiled. She turned to the family picture on the wall and made a mental note that one day, sometime soon, that picture would have Ashley on it and her little girl would be in a wedding dress.

**20th February, 2013. 12:45pm.**

I smile at Ashley before I walk through the double doors to where an officer is sat, she doesn't smile back, and she just watches me as I move into the next room.

I was half expecting it to be a communal room, I wanted it to be. I was sure Chelsea wouldn't hurt me if fifty other women were present, whereas in this room I couldn't be too sure. But we'd had a letter previously. Chelsea had been moved for her own safety into another wing, fights had broken out and apparently Chelsea was involved. I close my eyes and stop walking, praying I could do this and wondering where the hell my best friend had gone.

Chelsea in college didn't have fights, she solved them. She didn't have sick thoughts, she fucking painted pictures for Christ's sake. Maybe she was like this all along. Ash always said I had the amazing flaw of always wanting to find the best in people, always wanting to think they were better than they or anyone else believed.

"Are you okay?" I feel a large hand on the small of my back and I nod quickly, not wanting to worry the young officer next to me. He couldn't be more than twenty-three and I pitied all the wrong in this world he was going to see before his twenty-fifth birthday. "Do you want some water?"

"No I'm fine, thank you." I smile at him before walking to where a woman in a smart suit is standing, a sympathetic smile on her pretty face.

"Hey," She greets casually, bringing me to ease instantly. "I'm Detective Danes; I worked with Detective Harper on your case." That sentence was almost like a question, like I'd forgotten the dozen flowers Ashley had sent to her and the thank you card to Detective Harper.

"Yes." I'm not sure of what to say really. "Thank you."

"I just need to go through a few things with you, is that okay?" I nod and she smiles again, this time it's prettier than the work smile she gave me earlier. "Miss Daniels, Chelsea, as you will notice when you go in has been placed in restraining cuffs." She must notice my eyes widen and gently places a hand on my arm, "Not because we think she may hurt you, or us, it's just a precaution okay?"

"I…Yeah, okay."

"Miss Carlin, Chelsea isn't very co-operative and some questions you ask she may not answer. I know you've come here hoping for answers but you may not find everything you're looking for." She watches me, her soft gaze penetrating me.

"I need to do this." I repeat my mantra to her.

"And that's perfectly fine." She lets go of my arm and starts walking to a door with a little sign saying 'occupied.'

"Miss Danes?"

"Jessica please." She turns to me and quirks an eyebrow, making me instantly think of Ashley. I frown when I think of her sat alone.

"Will there be someone in there with me?"

"Yes, an officer and I will be present." She leaves her hand on the door handle. "Is that alright?"

"Yeah." I breathe out, relieved. "Um,"

"Whatever you need, Miss Carlin, just ask."

"Can somebody, um, Ash is alone and I just –"

"I'll get someone to sit with her, don't worry yourself."

I smile at her gratefully, thankfully, because as strong as Ashley is and as much as she tries for me; I know she isn't coping well knowing I'm going to be seeing the dark-haired woman. I know she hates how much power she has over me and how little she can do about it.

My eyes cast up to the police officer and I nod once, letting her know that yes, I'm ready to do this and no, I'm not going to regret anything. Moments pass and I watch the door swing open. There's no ominous creak, no flickering light, no howling wind; but it's just as tense, just as scary because as the door opens, I see her and my heart stops and my stomach twists.

That woman, bound like she once bound me, is staring at me. No pity, no remorse. Just a sad, sick smile resting on her lips. She doesn't even falter and she tilts her head to the side and brings her cuffed hands from her lap to onto the table.

"Finally," Chelsea drawls. "I wondered how long it'd take you."


	12. Final Chapter

**Okay, this is the last one. I wanted to stop at the last chapter but then I realised Spencer needed to have a face to face with Chelsea, cause she never really had one throughout Broken Waves. **

**This is different to how I usually set it out because I wanted it to be final and just (finally) wrap it up. Right away you'll notice the difference and I don't know why I did it like that, I don't know if it works, but that's how I wrote it in the draft and when I changed the perspective it didn't come across quite as well. **

**I hope you like it, considering I've left it so long, and I hope I didn't just ruin the whole story with it. **

**Thanks for the ongoing reviews, I enjoyed reading them immensely and loved seeing all the different opinions. **

**EDIT: This is the actual chapter, I totally kept uploading drafts, I'm sorry!  
**

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**20th February, 2013. 12:48pm.**

You watch as she sits across from you, a nervous sweat glinting on her hairline, her hands tightly clasped in front of her, her eyes looking everywhere else but you and you think to yourself; you made her this way. You did this.

That confident, witty, intelligent girl that all the guys wanted to keep and all the girls wanted to be.

You made her into this shuddering, pathetic hole of a person.

And you loved it.

See, you're the confident one now. That's how it was always meant to be.

At college Spencer was the girl that all the guys, and some girls, wanted to date. Sure, she was taken and people knew that but it didn't stop her being attractive to both sexes and, Jesus, the girl was just a natural flirt. Obviously she was never going to even dream of straying from Ashley, who would? The girl might not have been the most perfect girlfriend in other people's eyes but she made up for it and Spencer loved her.

That's when your jealousy started.

You'd hear guys in the hallways talking about how they'd like to "tap that," or "have her help me carve another notch," about all the other girls on campus. You'd hear them be crude about their latest one night stands and watch them slap each other on the back. You were one of those girls, not many knew it, but you were. You weren't a whore by any means and you certainly weren't easy, but if you went out without the intention of going home alone you could make it so.

But where you'd be just another notch on John Does' bedpost that same guy would rush past you to open up a door for Spencer. They'd offer to help her with her homework just to be around her. It didn't matter she was in a relationship, Spencer had all these admirers and you had fuck buddies.

You hated it.

You had one relationship in college with a guy named Simon. He was working towards being a teacher and how adorable was that? You met at the student bar on campus, got along and then you'd taken him back and proceeded to fuck his brains out. He was a gentleman, sweet and caring. He opened doors for _you, _helped _you _with assignments, cared only about _you. _It felt amazing.

Then one night, for some reason, Spencer had been the topic and Simon had casually stated that he found her attractive and you lost it.

Poor Simon, he never did get that teaching degree.

You never understood what Spencer had that you just didn't.

She was some tiny country bumpkin trying to make her way through the big bad city. She had the shy, innocent, girl look about her and she was anything but. If anything, she was a bit of a tomboy with too much confidence to be shy. How was that honest and truthful? She wasn't what she appeared to be on the surface and yet people still swarmed to her.

To top it all off, she was gay and you couldn't understand how people hardly blinked at it. Sometimes, people would question you about if you found it weird living with a lesbian and you'd tell them no; hoping, praying, they'd say something mean about Spencer but they never did. They'd shrug, say that she was lucky to have you compared to someone else, and then be on their way.

In school you'd been to hell and back being one of the only black girls yet Spencer had nothing but support when she came out; how was that fair in anyone's eyes?

You wanted to hate her but you found yourself more and more intrigued by her, almost surprisingly so, and you chalked it up to being a masochist.

She introduced you to all these people she knew as "my most talented and best friend Chelsea," and then all these people would gush around you and ask about you and you remembered why you kept her around.

"Chelsea," You look up at the whisper of your name. When you'd taken her, made her leave for a whole, you had never had so much attention. People asked you how you were holding up; people hugged you and told you how it would be okay.

When Spencer was gone; everything was perfect.

Now here she was again and everyone was looking at _her _and that fucking detective was comforting _her _when it was you who got in that fight last night, you who were injured. It hadn't taken much persuading to get that Spanish born girl to hit you and Lord had it hurt; but the crowd it pulled, well it was worth it.

Now it was all about her again, all about Spencer.

It made you sick.

Looking around you notice someone is missing and you smirk a little inside, and then outwardly, because maybe something in your plan worked. Maybe you made Spencer, well this version of Spencer, just as miserable as you were in college.

"Where's your bodyguard? Don't tell me she isn't around for you anymore," you want to fold your arms but the chains restrict you. For _her _safety. Now you can't even move when she's around, it's a joke. "She probably got bored of waiting. I have to say, I'm not surprised, two days into you going missing she was already looking around for another girl."

She swallows and you love it because not only can you hurt her physically but emotionally too. Your mom always said you were talented.

"She's outside actually. Waiting for me."

"You trust her to be alone, with uniformed women, for a prolonged period of time? Spencer, are you deluded?" You have to chuckle at that because you know that the one thing Spencer is afraid of is Ashley straying. And even if a blind person can see how much the two girls loved one another, fear could never be justified. Spencer had confided in you about how she had only slept with Ashley and she was afraid the brunette would get bored. What a fucking laugh you had over that.

"I trust her with my life."

"She didn't do a very good job keeping you safe really though, did she?" You raise an eyebrow. "I mean one minute you were there and the next..." When you shrug the metal cuffs clink against the metal table and you kind of like the noise.

"What happened wasn't Ashley's fault."

She's cute, you think, when she wants to cry. Her bottom lip trembles a little and her eyes fill with tears; she looks like she really needs her mommy.

"Well she certainly didn't help the situation, did she? I had you for so long and she never even came close to finding you," Spencer looks at you and you wonder what she's thinking, you hope you're getting something through to her.

"She tried her hardest."

"Is that what she's telling you?" You laugh and shake your head, watching as she swallows again. "Funny, because from where I was standing - which was very close to her by the way -" You smile as she closes her eyes at the imagery your play on words evoked. "All she did really was sit and cry. Sure, she wandered the streets now and then, but mostly she'd cry and want a shoulder to lean on."

It's strange, watching the girl you've always wanted to suffer actually suffering. It's nowhere near as fun as it was when she was begging.

"I made a very good shoulder," you whisper this, the words having more of an affect that way as she jerks up and tries to glare at you.

"Shut up," its sweet when she's mad, because Spencer never could pull off angry, it always made her look like a toddler. "Just shut up with your mind games. Ashley loves me and she looked for me, I know she did. She didn't turn to anyone for any sort of comfort, not in that way anyway, so just shut up."

Ashley's visit was funnier; at least she went to physically hurt you.

"How do you know? You weren't there."

"Because I know her! God, Chelsea, what did I do to deserve this?" Now she cries, lets the tears fall, and you mentally count them as they drop. "You took me away from my love, my home, my family because of what reason, what could I possibly have done?"

Her right eye has let more tears flow that her left eye and you're kind of focused on that than answering her. How strange.

"Growing up, were you ever told you could be anything you wanted to be?" The question is hypothetical so you don't let her answer. "I always wanted to be an artist, you know? Famous. I worked hard at it, so the world could lavish me with the attention I only sort of got at home. Then you come along, with your bright smile and your cute outfits. You don't even try to be loved, people love you anyway. So I changed it. I always wanted to be a painter and then all of a sudden I wanted to be you. I wanted a loving family, with the annoying older brother and the parents with achievable high hopes for me. I wanted the college degree that came easy to me. I wanted the solid relationship."

You pause and watch her; she's staring at you like you're curing cancer. She's hanging off of every word you say.

_That's more like it. _

"When you and Ashley broke up, because of that girl, I actually jumped for joy. I finally thought that one thing in your perfect fucking life wasn't so perfect."

"You helped us get back together though..." She whispers, confused.

"I didn't actually think you'd take the whore back. The dean had written us a letter to either get rid of her or he'd be forced to take action. I couldn't have my name tarnished, so I told her to see you. How was I to know you were desperate enough to say yes?"

"Don't speak about her like that."

"Or what, Spencer?" You taunt her because you can, because you love it. Spencer isn't a fighter, she's weak and you're strong, she thinks it's beneath her to fight dirty but she doesn't know how low you can go. "You'll send her in to finish her threats. Face it. I'm protected now, you can't touch me, I can do as I please."

"You're sick Chelsea, you need help, you do and I'm sorry I couldn't see it before."

"Spare me your pity Carlin," you spit out at her, bored with her chivalry already. "So I'm locked away, who cares? I eat alright, I have company and I sleep comfortably. When was the last time you ate, Spencer? Or the last time you didn't feel alone in a crowded room? By the looks of you, you haven't slept without waking up to noises in the night either."

You look at her as she whispers something to that Detective and watch as they share a smile. Together they stand and Spencer starts to walk out of the room, you've touched a nerve. Cool.

"I hope you find the help you need, Chelsea, I really do. But this was pointless," Spencer starts to leave and you can't help shout your parting shot.

"Who is the real prisoner, Carlin?"

The female detective issues you a warning look before leading Spencer out of the door, where Ashley will be waiting, but you don't care anymore because you saw how pale you made her, how scared; it's a surprisingly fulfilling feeling.

"How can you be so cold hearted?" A young officer asks, clearly new to the team as he's told to be quiet. "Don't you have any feelings?" He's told to quieten down again and this time he listens.

You stare ahead and shrug at his question, before turning to look at him fully.

"I don't know but I'm feeling pretty damn good right now."

**21st February, 2013. 01:02am.**

It's dark when she finally comes to bed.

We didn't talk until we'd gotten back to the apartment about what Chelsea had said to her but once to tin was open, so to speak, everything poured out. She told me how Chelsea alluded to me finding comfort in girls, in her, while Spencer was - away - and spoke about how I didn't try and find her. When I opened my mouth to protest, Spencer's lips found mine in an attempt to reassure me that it was my word she trusted, not that of some psycho.

She told me she cried, not because Chelsea had upset her, but for the loss of a friend. Because even it was a farce, a lie Chelsea had woven, in all those years Chelsea had seemed like a good friend; her best friend. And she had lost that, lost that connection and it hurt.

She hadn't found what she was hoping for, no, but Spencer said she had closure now; that she could finally let it go. She had more questions but she told me Chelsea would have spun them and though she'd been warned, it wasn't until she actually talked to the woman that she believed it.

But it's okay now, we're okay, the day is over.

I didn't want either of us to go to bed alone but Paula had rang and Spencer had answered. I issued a goodnight - not wanting to intrude - and only in the last twenty minutes did they get off the phone. Spencer's been quiet since then, probably needing the space, but I can hear her undressing now and I know she must be exhausted.

"Why are you not asleep?" She scolds playfully, wrapping a cool arm around my stomach and slipping her leg between mine. Her head lands on my shoulder and she waits until I wrap my arm around her, pulling her closer to my side, before she wiggles a bit and settles into her favourite position.

"Can't sleep unless you're here," my speech slurs a little and I guess I've been ignoring how tired I am.

"I'm here now," she yawns adorably against me and I roll my eyes in the dark when my stomach erupts in butterflies. I'm a grown woman for God's sake. "So sleep, or you'll be too grumpy in the morning to make me breakfast," she lands a kiss on my collarbone. "And I'm going to really want breakfast."

"Really. And how do you know I'm even going to make you any?" I squeeze the skin under my fingers.

"Cause I'll reward you in sexual favours if you do," she giggles at that and I smile at just how sweet she is, how sweet she will always be.

"Then I'll set my alarm."

"Good."

It goes quiet and I know she's settling down to sleep.

"Ashley?"

"Mmm."

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you Spencer," I don't even hesitate to answer her. I press a kiss into her hairline and linger there; breathing her in. "I love you so much."

"Tell me you know that I love you"

"I know you love me. More than you can say," I add that last bit on because I know she'll do it anyway. She always does.

Her grip tightens on me and I feel her breathing pick up, my heart rate is matching it.

"Ashley?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me you'll marry me."

She stops breathing for a moment and so does my heart.

"I'll marry you."

**September 27th, 2013. 13:33pm.**

The ring on my finger glistens in the sunlight as I watch Ashley run around on the beach like a child.

She's laughing and screaming and you'd be forgiven for thinking it was some child she was playing with but no, it's my big brother. I shake my head at the sight of them and turn to Madison, my brother's wife, where she's frowning in an amused way at our respective halves.

"He's your brother," she informs me, moving the umbrella to cover her sleeping daughter a little more.

"You married him," I retort with a laugh.

"I could say the same for you," pointing to Ashley, whose now repeatedly kicking my brothers' sides as he carries her to the sea, Madison makes her point.

"Ah, not for a few more months," I remind her. A flutter in my stomach reminding me just how excited I am for it.

It's been year since it happened, the day I thought I was going to lose this utter contentment and I woke up this morning dreading the following hours.

But when I looked to my side and saw my sleeping fiancée, knowing in my heart I was safe, I relaxed into her body. I let myself be taken over by that calm feeling of being in love.

Ashley started off the day by tiptoeing around me, trying not to say anything out of place or uncomfortable. I told her to stop and then proceeded to push her into the shower to properly start our day; like we usually would. I didn't want today to be different to any other, I had to show her that, and it worked. She has spent the rest of today running around like a lovesick teenager with an indestructible grin on her beautiful face.

I didn't want any reminders, I still don't, it's in the past and it needs to stay there.

I still wake up, terrified and screaming into the night - but it's rare, very rare. It usually happens when I'm stressed or if something during the day has set off a flashback, I've been told to expect this and to not be afraid, to just tell Ashley or my mom. It's normal, but it's rare that it happens and when it does I hate Chelsea, I actually hate her.

When I was younger I was told that hate didn't get anyone anywhere. My mom would tell me that it took a stronger person to see past that feeling and my dad would tell me life was too short, too precious, to waste it. I believed them.

But sometimes I hate Chelsea, so much, so viciously that it scares me.

Because of her I could have lost everything.

Because of her I'm afraid of getting into cars with anyone else but Ashley.

Because of her I'm not the same Spencer I was this time last year.

I told Ash all of this and she simply kissed me and told me she wasn't important enough for me to think about, that I should forget her and think only about one brunette and that was her. Despite the joke, I haven't failed to notice her holding me tighter at nights.

"Are you okay, Spence?" Madison begins nervously and I know it's not only her asking but it's my brother and everyone else too afraid to broach the subject.

"I'm engaged to a beautiful woman, I'm healthy and fit with a wonderful family and I live in a gorgeous apartment." I smile at her, noticing but choosing to ignore the fact I haven't yet dared return to work. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I know, I just..." She trails off and I feel bad because Madison has never been at a loss for words.

"I promise, Madison, I promise you I'm absolutely perfect," I grasp her hands to assure her. "It happened, I can't change that as much as we all want to, but I'm moving forward now. I'm not letting her ruin me."

"Good," nodding once, to let me know this conversation is over, she squeezes my hands and gives my cheek a quick kiss. "You know where I am if you need anything."

"Thank you."

"Keep your hands off of my fiancée," I hear Ashley before I see her but I'm not shocked to feel her cold, wet body collapse into my lap. "Hey baby," she grins at me in a childlike way before planting a salty kiss onto my lips.

"Where's Glen?" I faintly hear my sister in law ask.

"I drowned him," Ashley mutters against me before pulling away and searching for him, dissolving in peels of laughter, with the girl next to me, at the image of my brother stomping up the beach, soaking wet all over with sea weed hanging from him trunks.

"Oh Glen," I try not to laugh, but with Ashley and Madison rolling around and Glens face it's far, far too difficult.

He huffs as he sits cross legged on the sand in front of us and throws a hand full at Ashley's stomach. Some of the granules sticking to her gorgeous wet, tanned skin and she shrieks, kicking her feet which results in flinging sand back at him. I call time on this war before my four-month old niece gets blasted by the two of them.

"Sometimes I wonder how old you really are," I whisper to Ashley as she leans back against me. I love feeling her weight, I love being in her arms and nearly losing it makes me relish it even more. The thought of never seeing those eyes again or the feeling warmth of her hugs or simply tasting her lips; I couldn't cope; I honestly couldn't live without her. She is my rock.

"I'm old enough to marry you," she whispers back, connecting our lips briefly, just enough to be intimate on a crowded beach. She grabs at my hand, intertwining our fingers and running her thumb over the back of it. "I can't wait."

"Me either," I smile into her damp hair, which no longer smells of mangoes but of the sea. "I love you."

"I love you," she kisses the back of my hand before going back to arguing with Glen over the finer points of dunking someone.

I'm not going to feel bad about this feeling perfect, I can't. Whatever Chelsea did, she did it because of her own faults, not mine; I did nothing.

She hasn't ruined me, she's made me stronger, she's made us stronger. Me and Ashley, I mean look at us now.

I'm not a prisoner like she suggested, I'm not.

I'm free.

I'm alive.

_Fin. _


End file.
